


Near Wild Heaven

by Brief_and_Dreamy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Fights, First Time, Friendship, Love/Hate, M/M, Minor Violence, Peril, Pining, Post-War, Rebuilding Hogwarts, Romance, Slow Burn, Snogging, Un-negotiated D/s, Very mild d/s, magical theory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2018-11-22 02:30:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 74,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11370720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brief_and_Dreamy/pseuds/Brief_and_Dreamy
Summary: The war is over and Harry has returned to help rebuild Hogwarts. He longs to move forwards, but the past refuses to let him go. The castle is full of ghosts: haunting nightmares, the deaths he couldn't prevent, and the age-old rivalry that Draco Malfoy seems determined to maintain.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Love to Brightowl, Abradystrix, lokifan and Magpie_fngrl for betaing and good advice.

Cold. So cold. Ice shifting wet and rough across his skin. Gasping, Harry rolled over and fumbled at the bedside table until he found his glasses. He could still see the tail of the dream as it fled around the corner of his memory. The forest, a pool of inky tar, being unable to move. He rubbed at his face and found it damp and clammy. Shivering, muscles stiff, he sat up and pulled the blankets around his shoulders.

 _I'm still here._ The words didn't fit with the dream, but they nevertheless sat heavy in his mind. _Can you help? Harry, can you help?_ The voice had sounded real. He parted his bed curtains and peered through the heavy darkness. All the other boys were fast asleep, or at least not moving or speaking. He alone was awake. The voice must have come from his dream.

He slid out of bed. The cold of the bare stone floor bit at the soles of his feet as he stumbled to the bathroom. Harry hated living underground. He didn't know how the Slytherins stood it year after year. He felt buried, water through the windows above, solid earth surrounding them everywhere else. The dungeons made Harry's bones ache with cold, even when the hearth in the common room blazed with fire. 

He drank straight from the snake-shaped tap. The water cleared his head. If he'd been in Gryffindor Tower–if the tower hadn't been deemed uninhabitable–he could have glanced out a window to tell the time. Instead, he returned to the dorm and retrieved his watch, then cast a mild Lumos to read it. 5:37. No point in going back to bed; by the time he fell back asleep he'd have to get up again. Harry shrugged into his flannel dressing gown, grabbed his book, and headed for the common room.

With a suppressed groan, he paused in the doorway. Malfoy's hair gleamed golden in the firelight. He was in Harry's favourite spot, the ancient wing-chair with upholstery worn soft as silk. Malfoy held an enormous, leather-bound book in his lap. If there'd been other people in the room, Harry could have ignored him and just curled up on the sofa. If you entered a room inhabited by only one other person, however, you had to greet them or you'd look like a git. Just as Harry decided to go back to bed, Malfoy spotted him. He stared, expressionless, then sighed, a line forming between his eyebrows. He nodded at Harry. Harry nodded in return. Malfoy turned back to his book.

Harry threw himself down on the green leather sofa, which was too far away from the fire to catch enough of its warmth. He should have known Malfoy might be in the common room. He was always up and gone before any of the other boys were awake. There'd been a few awkward mornings when they'd first arrived. Harry had been taken aback by the bizarre sight of Malfoy in pyjamas, hair mussed, face flushed from sleep. Malfoy brushing his teeth. Malfoy showering. Malfoy had ignored the rest of them, a constant sneer on his face, refusing to make eye contact. Then Ron made a comment about his monogrammed slippers and they didn't see Malfoy in the mornings any more.

Harry tightened the belt of his dressing gown and opened his book. _Crypts and Curses_ by Venture Craggy. He'd swiped it from the bookshelf in the Burrow's sitting room. It had probably belonged to Bill. He tried to lose himself in descriptions of dark magic and ways to counter it, but couldn't focus. Malfoy's presence was too distracting. He shot him a glance. The wing-chair was angled so Harry could only see his fingers digging into the armrest and the side of his face–sharp cheekbones brightening and darkening in the firelight. Harry still didn't know why Malfoy was here. Why he'd returned to Hogwarts when all the other male Slytherins in his year had stayed well away.

A brass candelabra, shaped like bloody snakes again, stood on the table next to the sofa. Harry lit the candles to give himself more light than the overhanging lamps provided. Something grey flashed by the windows, weaving through the green water. Too small to be the squid. A merperson, maybe. Or Moaning Myrtle. A sleek black cat leapt onto the sofa and blinked at Harry with yellow eyes. He wondered who it belonged to. He blinked back at it and it curled up, half on top of his feet. It mewed at him and Harry mewed back, because it only seemed polite. Malfoy muttered something under his breath. 

After a few more tries, Harry immersed himself in his book. The Anti-Dermis Curse. The victim's skin vanished completely. Countered with a stasis charm followed by a course of numbing and skin-repair potions that took several weeks to work. Formicae Farris. Transfigured the victim into a swarm of ants. Countered with a reversal spell so complicated Harry decided to discuss it with Hermione later. Exspiravit Catena. Formed a chain between–

A sharp clap made Harry jump. Malfoy had snapped his book shut. With an irritated expression, he stood and slid it back into the bookshelf, then turned and marched towards the exit. Harry watched him over the top of his book, trying not to be obvious about it. The cat stretched, leapt off the sofa and crept away into the darkness.

Malfoy shot him a look as he passed. 'Nice pyjamas, Potter.'

Harry rolled his eyes and gave him two fingers. Malfoy slammed the door behind him. Given the door was solid stone, he must have used a spell to do it. Harry smiled. The war hadn't made Malfoy any less dramatic. And, he realised, that had been the longest conversation–if you could call it a conversation–that they'd had since arriving back at Hogwarts. Not that Harry was complaining. Living in the Slytherin dungeons was bad enough without having to socialise with Draco Malfoy on top of it.

Merlin, Harry hated it down here. His skin would begin to crawl as soon as he crossed the threshold. The murky green light, the snakes. It reminded him of Grimmauld Place and made his stomach ache. The brief interaction with Malfoy had left him feeling oddly better, though. Perhaps it was the normality of it. The flutter in his pulse as he automatically prepared to square off. Everything was so different now–the castle broken and gaping, no lessons, no exams to worry about. No Snape. So many people no longer there. Harry rubbed his eyes. When he opened them again the early morning gloom had shifted; sunlight filtered down through the water, making the portholes glow with rippling patterns. Harry set down his book and ran his fingers through his hair. Hogwarts had changed so much that an exchange of hostilities with Malfoy was now a bit of nostalgic fun.

'There you are.' Ron poked his head through the archway leading to the dorms. He yawned, hair askew. 'Nightmare?'

'Nah,' Harry lied, getting up. 'Just woke up early for some reason. It's so bloody cold down here.'

'Is it?'

Harry looked at Ron's T-shirt and boxers, his bare, freckled legs. 'You're not cold?'

'Nah. Just normal. Hope you're not getting ill, mate.'

Harry shook his head. 'Come on. Let's get dressed and get breakfast.'

'Not going to argue with that.'

Back in the dorm, Harry pulled on his clothes. Jeans and the Harpies T-shirt Ginny had given him, too thin for underground but suitable for the late July heat outside. With Malfoy gone, he could almost imagine he was back in Gryffindor tower. Neville gave Harry a sleepy smile as he wandered towards the bathroom. His blond hair had grown long and hung sleek on either side of his round face. Dean and Seamus play-fought, Seamus laughing hysterically, Dean covered in a gooey mess that looked like the result of a WWW prank.

Harry took a deep breath. They were moving forward, all of them. Everyone who'd returned to help put Hogwarts back together. But some things remained familiar, and Harry needed that after so much irrevocable change–even if it came in the form of Draco Malfoy.

***

Auror Meijer swept his wand along the grass, leaving an expanding stripe of glowing light in its wake.

'Cingo domicilium?' Harry asked, then ran the back of his hand across his forehead and wiped the sweat off on his jeans.

'Cingo domicilium,' Auror Meijer repeated.

Harry mimicked the incantation and arm movement and watched as the band of glowing gold continued to expand. It curved around the lake, which glistened in the sunshine, and skirted the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It swept inward, beneath their feet, coating the ground. Harry followed it with his eyes as it moved towards the castle. A pair of kids in the distance spotted it approaching, shrieked, and ran away. Harry grinned. After a moment, the spell faded and became invisible.

'That was very good, Harry. Your wrist is stiff, you should turn it more,' Meijer continued. He shook his light-brown fringe out of his face and smiled. Harry reckoned he was in his late twenties. Squared jawed, kind blue eyes. Impressive-looking in his dark-red uniform in a way that made Harry a bit bashful. Someday he'd wear a uniform like that. He hoped he'd fill it out as well as Meijer. 'Let's try again. But this time focus on your attachment to Hogwarts.'

'My attachment?' Harry looked up at the castle.

'The spell works best when cast by someone with an emotional connection to the protected property.'

The castle stretched upwards at the top of the hill, grey spires cutting into the clear blue expanse of the sky. Mountains rising up around it in the distance. Harry's heart twisted. A good chunk of Gryffindor Tower was missing; Ravenclaw Tower rose intact, but blackened by fire. Piles of crumbled stone and wood littered the outskirts, the remains of walls and bridges. His first real home. So damaged. Wounded really. But, he reminded himself, repairable. And theirs.

He cast the spell again, letting the ache inside power it. The golden light flowing from his wand burned brighter than before. Meijer gave him a pat on the back. Harry smiled at him.

Someone coughed. Harry turned and saw Ginny wearing grass-stained Quidditch gear, her broom over her shoulder. One of her eyebrows arched. 

'What?' Harry asked.

'Lunch in a minute. You coming?'

'See you tomorrow, Harry,' said Meijer. He moved off towards the forest, tall and straight backed. Harry watched him for a moment, his confidence, the strength of his stride.

When he looked back at Ginny, she was biting her lip, eyes sparkling with amusement. 'What?' he asked again. They started climbing the hill. 'Why are you looking at me like that?'

'Like what?' Ginny gave him her innocent eyes.

'Like you think I've done something funny and don't know it.'

'You're imagining things.' She swatted him on the bum with her broom.

Harry jumped and laughed. He tried to grab it from her, but she swung it behind her back and kept moving in a circle, facing him, until he gave up. 'How's the Quidditch pitch looking?'

'Better. We've regrown most of the grass.' They walked in silence for a moment.

Ginny looked happy, but there were shadows beneath her eyes. She saw him looking. 'You go first.'

Harry frowned. 'I went first last time.'

'I want to hear yours before I tell you mine.'

Neville and Hannah approached from the direction of the greenhouses. Hannah had her arm around Dennis Creevey's shoulders and was talking to him as he sobbed.

Harry stopped walking.

Ginny took his hand. 'Not your fault, Harry,' she said. 'Not your fault.'

He kicked at a clump of grass. 'So, it was bad? Your nightmare?'

Looking towards the castle, Ginny nodded.

'Right. I'll go then.' He let go of Ginny's hand and flexed his fingers. 'I don’t remember it all that clearly. I was in the forest.'

'Merlin,' said Ginny, using the funny voice she saved for their game. Or ritual. Whatever this thing was that they did for each other. 'When are you _not_ in the forest. Tell your subconscious to get some original material.'

'There was this black pool.'

'That means you need to take a bath.'

Harry snorted. 'I was outside the pool, looking down. And then…Then I was in it, up to my knees.' The dream came back to him, creeping over his skin like smoke. His throat tightened, making it harder to talk. 'He was waiting for me. Calling for me. But I was stuck in the pool. I knew, I knew that if I didn't pull myself free and get to him in time, he'd start killing people.'

Ginny listened with one of her blazing looks.

'But I couldn't. It was like… The water or tar or whatever it was wouldn't let me go. When I tried to lift my leg it would yank it back down again. And then he started listing names, telling me who he was going to kill first. Ron, Hermione. You. He was laughing. Laughing at me for not being able to stop him.'

'You don't make it easy,' she said, but then her expression became determined. 'Not laughing any more, is he? Voldie-Mc-Worm food. Lord Mouldy-pants.'

The memory of the dream still floated dark in his mind, but his mouth twitched.

'You reckon he ever snorted when he laughed?' Ginny continued. 'Could he snort? Without a nose I mean?'

Harry grinned.

'And he was shit at comedy himself, wasn't he? Couldn't tell a proper joke to save his life. You expect more from a bloke with the last name Riddle.'

Cracking up, Harry grabbed her and kissed the top of her head. 'You're brilliant,' he said, and thought, _I love you_ , but didn't say it. He pulled back and brushed some hair off her face. 'Your turn now.'

'Can we skip me today?'

'Nope. If you're trying to get out of your go, you need it even more than I did.'

'Yeah.' She screwed her face up. 'All right.' She covered her eyes with her hand. 'Dammit.'

'It's okay,' said Harry. 'Go on.'

'It was Fred.'

Harry had guessed so. Dreams about Fred were harder on Ginny than anything else.

'I was in my room at home,' she said, 'trying to write an owl. I don't even remember who it was for, but the letters kept tangling up and none of the words came out the way I wanted them to. And I got really angry at my quill and started yelling at it.'

'Sometime you just need to tell a quill what's what. You can't let them push you around. Awful bullies, quills.'

She smiled, but Harry could tell she was forcing it.

'And I heard him. Fred. Behind me. Sitting on my bed. He said, “Why are you wasting time with that nonsense when you could be outside flying?”'

'He had a point.'

'I… I said… I said, I thought you died. And–in the dream–I thought, no. I was wrong. He's here. He didn't die after all. And I was happy, so relieved.' She held herself together, but tears slid slowly down her cheeks. Harry thought as hard as he could for something funny to say, but came up blank. 'Then I turned around to look at him,' said Ginny. 'And there was no one there.'

'The thing is,' said Harry, terrified he was making a mistake, 'you can always remember he's the one who died. Fred rhymes with dead.'

Ginny's mouth fell open. Harry cringed, wondering if it would be possible to Oblivate her.

'Oh my god,' said Ginny. 'You're _horrible_. That's just awful.' She punched him on the arm and then burst out laughing. Her cheeks were still wet. 'That's the worst thing anyone has ever said. I can't believe it.'

'Heh.' Harry rubbed at the back of his neck.

'We're done.' She wiped her eyes on her shirtsleeve. 'Let's go.' As they made their way to the top of the hill, she hooked their pinky fingers together.

Harry had that weird spacy feeling he got sometimes after laughing hard or crying. The dream was gone, though. Its power destroyed. When they reached the castle, he took her by the shoulders and pressed their foreheads together. She grasped his wrists and squeezed. They stayed like that for a moment. Harry breathed in her flowery scent, which filled him with as much regret as happiness these days.

Ginny pulled away. 'See you later, Harry,' she said, then ran over to Dean, who was eyeing Harry warily.

Folding his arms, Harry watched them walk into the castle holding hands. He'd waited too long. He'd only had energy for Ron and Hermione in the days after the war. He'd held Ginny in his mind–something bright and lovely for when he was ready for real life again. For the part of his life that didn't have to do with Voldemort or the war. But then there were funerals and the trials, and they left him too drained to reach out to her. By the time he was ready to move forward, Ginny had made up with Dean and they were together.

He looked around, waiting for Ron to get back from the far side of the lake where he'd been working with his Auror, a middle-aged woman named Jimenez. He couldn't spot him and he didn't see Hermione either. Sighing, Harry went into the castle on his own.

Ginny and Dean. Ron and Hermione. Lavender and Parvati. Malcolm Baddock and a boy in Hufflepuff, according to gossip. People seemed to be pairing off as if… As if they'd just survived a war. Not Harry, though. Which was all right. He was fine with that. That could come later, once Hogwarts was repaired, once he was training to be an Auror. 

He'd go flying later, he decided. Burn off all this restless energy.

Professor McGonagall descended the grand staircase, followed by a sour-looking Malfoy, who gave Harry a cold glance as he passed. Chin high, hair slicked back. His robes flowed gracefully as he walked, composed and tidy. It didn’t fool Harry. He'd seen Malfoy during the trials when his hair had hung tangled in his face and his robes had been wrinkled and unwashed. He'd looked so fragile, bound into the iron chair in the Ministry courtroom. Shaking and desperate. Young. Harry had felt enormous relief when Malfoy was cleared of all charges on the basis of his youth and Harry's testimony. Despite everything, Harry didn't want to see him go to Azkaban. Malfoy had been caught up in forces beyond his control every bit as much as he had.

The professional builders, visiting Aurors, and spell experts took up the two tables on the left side of the Great Hall. Harry searched them until he spotted Meijer, then approached the group of fifty or so students sitting at the two tables on the right. Apart from the Slytherins, who kept to the end of one table, House divisions had fallen away and they sat mixed together. Harry was surprised to see Theo Nott with his ratty face sitting across from Malfoy. He must have just arrived. Nott's father was in Azkaban. Harry resolved to keep an eye on him. He wondered where Nott would sleep, as their dorm room was already full. The only other Slytherins from Harry's year were Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode. They were surrounded by younger students. Short little Malcolm Baddock. A girl who looked very much like Daphne. Harry didn't know the names of the others.

He slipped in beside Neville, who was trying to spell the soil out from beneath his fingernails.

'Do you have to do that at the table?' asked Lavender, wrinkling her nose.

'Really,' echoed Parvati.

'Sorry, sorry.' Neville put his wand away.

Dennis sat down at the at the table, puffy-eyed and quiet. Harry caught his eye and smiled. Dennis smiled back and there was something genuinely bright in it, which made Harry's eyes sting. Sometimes Harry caught Dennis staring at him with an awed expression. A lot of the younger kids did that. A lot of the adult builders did too. None of them had tried to catch him and give him one of the 'so grateful for all you've done' speeches that made Harry want to spontaneously combust, thank Merlin. He thought Professor McGonagall might have had a word with them.

Finally, Ron and Hermione arrived and sat down opposite Harry. Hermione's hair looked suspiciously messy. Ron's ears shone red. Harry stopped looking at them and played with his fork.

'Sorry, mate,' said Ron. 'I er, had to run back to the dorm for…'

'Your handkerchief,' finished Hermione.

'That what they call it these days?' asked Seamus. ' _Hand_ kerchief?'

'You've got twigs in your hair, Hermione,' said Luna. 'Have you been lying on the grass? It's a beautiful day for it. The clouds are making all sorts of shapes.'

Hermione blushed. 'I was helping Professor Slughorn gather herbs in the forest. The potions supplies are dangerously low. Ron was kind enough to help us carry the baskets.'

'I saw Slughorn carrying the baskets towards the supply room,' said Seamus. 'So must've been something else made you late for lunch.'

'Stop being childish, Seamus,' said Hermione.

'Yeah,' said Ron. He leaned back to pluck the twig from Hermione's hair and gave Seamus a wink. 'Grow up.'

Harry was relieved when the dishes filled up with sandwiches and they all started to eat. He felt a bit peeved that Ron and Hermione hadn't come to find him before lunch, but… Well, things had changed. He was still getting used to it.

The owls arrived and dropped the _Prophet_ on the table in front of Hermione. She spread it open and Harry tried to read the upside down headlines across the table.

'Anything about those three?' he asked.

'Nothing,' said Ron, his face darkening.

Harry shook his head. 'Why haven't they found them yet?' He pushed his plate away. 'Robards should let me help with the search. I could be useful. I've been out there. I've fought them.' Three Death Eaters had slipped away in the aftermath of the Battle. Rookwood, Macnair, and Dolohov. So far, no one had found any trace of them.

Dolohov had killed Remus Lupin. Harry wouldn't be happy until he was back in Azkaban. If he could put him there himself, so much the better. He'd be able to tell Teddy that he'd done it. That he'd found justice for his father's killer. He'd fought and subdued Dolohov before. He reckoned he could do it again.

'You're doing important work here, Harry,' said Hermione. 'You're making Hogwarts safe again.'

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Malfoy listening in.

'Wait,' said Ron, sitting up straight and pointing to an article at the bottom of the page. 'It says here that Dolohov was spotted in Glasgow.'

'Dolohov?' said Malfoy.

Something about his tone of voice made Harry look at him. 'What do you know about it?'

The conversation at the table trailed off.

'I know Dolohov,' said Malfoy. 'I know that if he's as close as Glasgow, you lot–' He gestured towards Harry and his friends. 'Better get a move on with _making Hogwarts safe again._ '

Harry stared Malfoy down. 'Be specific.' It was like interrogating a subject. Harry was the Auror, Malfoy the Death Eater. He wondered if Meijer would be impressed if he could see him.

'Specific?' Malfoy's eyelashes fluttered, but he didn't look away. 'I once saw him incinerate a family of four Muggles with one spell. He does it slowly, starting at the feet and creeping upwards.'

Lavender gasped and started crying. Squeaky, strangled little sobs. Parvati wrapped her arm around her and stroked her hair.

Harry swallowed. 'And what were you doing when this happened?'

Malfoy didn't answer for a moment. He'd gone still. 'You know what I was doing,' he finally said, voice tight.

Harry didn't know what he meant. He looked at Ron. Ron shrugged.

'You know,' said Malfoy, louder.

'Well then,' said McGonagall, who had appeared at the head of the table. Her eyes moved between Harry and Malfoy. 'Time to get back to work.'

'The castle won't heal itself,' said Dean.

'It will, given enough time,' said Hermione. 'I've read up on it. But it will go a lot faster if we hurry it along.'

Harry looked at Malfoy again, but Malfoy had turned away and was talking to Nott. Malfoy didn't know about the connection Harry'd had with Voldemort, so he couldn't be referring to that. Why did he think Harry knew what he'd been doing?

'Please come with me, Potter,' said Professor McGonagall.

Harry looked up, trying to think of anything he'd done wrong in the last few hours.

'Nothing to be concerned about. I have something to show you and I think you'll be pleased.' She turned to Malfoy. 'We'll stop by my office, Malfoy, and then get back to work on the mirrors.'

While everyone else went off to their afternoon tasks, Harry and Malfoy followed Professor McGonagall up the grand staircase towards her office. Malfoy trudged along as if he resented each and every stair, leaving several yards distance between himself and Harry.

Malfoy spotted Harry looking at him, glared, and looked away. Despite this, Harry slowed his pace until he and Malfoy were side by side.

'What did you mean by that?' he asked.

Malfoy's lip curled, but he didn't answer.

'How would I have known what you were doing with Dolohov?' Harry persisted.

'Watch your step, Potter,' said Malfoy. His hand twitched in his pocket, his lips moved silently.

Harry tripped over his own feet and crashed to the floor, just managing to break his fall with his hands. He took a few seconds to let the shock fade. He'd banged his knee rather hard. He pushed himself up and saw McGonagall rushing towards them. 'You're a prick,' he muttered under his breath.

Malfoy smirked.

'What on earth?' McGonagall helped Harry stand. 'Are you quite all right, Potter?'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Don't know what happened.'

They set off again. His knee ached, but he kept his gait steady, refusing to let Malfoy see him limp.

McGonagall gave the password - 'fortitude' - to the stone gargoyle, who seemed rather pleased to have regained his perch after the battle, and the three proceeded up the spiral staircase. Malfoy seemed to be in a better mood now. He wore a smile that made Harry buzz with the urge to hex him back. But Professor McGonagall was right there, watching them. Merlin, they'd lived through a war–barely lived through a war–and were still jabbing at each other like First Years. He let his irritation fade. The best policy would be to just ignore Malfoy as much as possible.

Afternoon sunlight flooded through the windows of McGonagall's office, painting the walls and furniture buttery-yellow. The room smelled of tea and parchment. The tables were still laden with magical artefacts and devices, some familiar, some he didn't remember seeing before. A brass globe engraved with runes. Something that looked like an old-fashioned radio. And there was the Pensieve.

On reflex, Harry glanced at Dumbledore's portrait, but he was fast asleep.

Malfoy made a quiet, startled sound. Harry followed his gaze and had to grab onto the back of a chair to steady himself.

'It's here,' he said.

'Yes,' said Professor McGonagall. 'I thought you'd like to see it.'

 _Like_ wasn't the right word. Snape sneered down at Harry, standing straight, looking just as greasy and antagonistic as he had while alive. Harry went hot with instinctual anger. A wave of sorrow crashed over him. He tried to speak but found that his throat had closed up. 

'Pull yourself together, Potter. I'm here at your personal request, or so I've been told. Try not to embarrass yourself. If that is at all possible.' Snape's slow, cold voice was as irritating as ever.

Malfoy laughed. He looked delighted. 'Potter fell flat on his face on the way up,' he said, bright and eager. 'Our saviour, but he can't put one foot properly in front of the other.'

Harry felt a soft pressure on his shoulder. McGonagall's hand. 'We'll need some time to get accustomed to it,' she said.

'Yeah,' said Harry. He didn't know what he'd expected. He’d only thought about the fact that the portrait belonged there, not what it would be like to stand there and look at Snape and be able to speak with him.

'Mister Malfoy,' said Snape. 'You survived, I see, despite your wilful disregard of all my advice.'

The pleasure dropped from Malfoy's face. He looked at Harry, then quickly away again.

'We should get on with our work now, boys,' said McGonagall. 'There will be time to converse with Professor Snape, should you wish, on another day.' She urged Harry towards the door.

Malfoy ignored her. 'You were on Dumbledore’s side the entire time,' he said, his voice brittle. 'The entire time. And you never once… You didn't even try to…'

'Malfoy,' said McGonagall. 'Please.'

'Everything you ever said to me was a lie,' said Malfoy, then he spun and marched out of the office. His footsteps rang as he ran down the stone stairs.

McGonagall sighed. 'I’m afraid there are rather a lot of people who will want to have words with you, Severus,' she said.

'I foresee taking a large number of naps, if that's the case.' Snape swirled his cape, then sat down heavily in the carved, wooden chair behind him.

'Let's go, Harry,' said McGonagall. Harry blinked at her use of his first name, then swallowed down the pressure between his ribs. She squeezed his shoulder, then moved her hand to his back. With gentle pressure, she ushered him out of her office.

***

Harry ran into Hermione, but not Ron, on his way down the stairs.

'He's taking some time to himself,' she said. 'Flitwick took us up to the corridor where Fred died. Ron hadn't been expecting it.'

'Is… Is he okay?' Stupid question. Of course Ron wasn't okay. Merlin, there was an emotional booby-trap around every corner. Seeing the portrait had left Harry feeling raw and unbalanced, and now he felt heavy with guilt. He considered taking some time to himself as well.

'He'll be okay in a bit. Are you all right, Harry?'

There was no chance of keeping his feelings to himself with Hermione present. 'Snape's portrait arrived.' He examined a loose thread at the bottom of his T-shirt.

'Oh! What was it like? Was he wearing his usual robes? Holding anything in his hands? Sitting or standing? Did he say anything to you?'

Harry shrugged.

'Ah. It must have felt very strange.'

'Yeah, it did.'

'I'm helping Madame Pince in the library,' she said, giving him a thoughtful look. 'Re-shelving books. Putting the ones that need repairing to the side. Want to come along?'

'Sure,' he said, and smiled at her. Steady, tedious, mindless work. It sounded perfect.

'Honestly, Harry,' she said as they set off. 'You need to allow yourself space to experience all the complicated emotions being back in the castle will inevitably provoke. If you try to bottle things up, you'll be worse off in the long run. And there's nothing wrong with having a good, long cry. I want you to know that.'

'I'll keep it in mind,' he said. 'A good long cry. I'll schedule it in for Thursday after lunch.'

She rolled her eyes, then rubbed his shoulder again. Grinning, Harry let her.

***

Harry pulled on his pyjama bottoms and reached under his pillow for the T-shirt he slept in. _I'm still here,_ said a voice. He froze. The same voice from that morning. He was definitely not dreaming now.

 _Harry._ The voice whispered. Someone young. A boy. And Harry recognised it. He'd heard the voice before, but neither a name nor a face to match it came to mind. _He'll be angry if he knows I'm talking to you. But we're stuck. Harry, can you help?_

Harry yanked open his bed curtains and stood up, searching the dorm room.

'Night, Harry,' said Ron. He yawned, not at all looking as if he'd just heard a strange whispering voice.

Neville rummaged through his trunk. Dean was already in bed and Seamus was in the bathroom. Harry had no idea where Malfoy was.

Ron lay down and closed his bed curtains. Harry remained standing, listening. The voice didn’t say anything else. He shook his head, then checked the bedside table for the Weasleys’ cursebreaking book, but it wasn't there. Merlin, he hoped he hadn't lost it. He thought back to the last time he'd had it and realised that he must have left it on the sofa that morning. With a sigh, he got up to retrieve it, not bothering with his dressing gown as he'd only be a few seconds. He regretted his lack of clothes immediately upon entering the common room. The icy night air bit at his bare skin. The fire had been lit, but a group of Slytherins sat around it, hogging all the warmth. Some of them turned and looked as he crossed the room towards the sofa. Malfoy stared, his lips pursed. Harry should have at least pulled on his T-shirt. He hunched over, hugging himself and grabbed the book from the side table.

'Was this the state of the Gryffindor common room?' Malfoy's mocking drawl sent a shiver down Harry's spine. 'The lot of you wandering around half-naked? Salazar.' He turned to the rest of the group. 'Can you imagine? It's enough to make you want to risk self-Obliviation.'

Nervous laughter from the other Slytherins. Well, some of them. Malcolm frowned and looked at his knees. Nott rolled his eyes.

Harry began walking back to the dorm room. 'Just getting my book, Malfoy.'

'It's lack of breeding,' Malfoy continued. 'It's the best one can expect from a half-blood raised by Muggles.'

Harry grit his teeth and tried not to let his temper rise.

'Do shut up, Draco,' said a female voice. 'You're only embarrassing yourself.'

'I'll speak when I want to,' Malfoy snapped.

'Having a go at Harry Potter makes you look like an absolute arse. You realise that don't you?'

Harry turned to get a look at the girl. It was the blond who looked like Daphne Greengrass. Astoria. That was her name. The black cat he’d seen earlier was curled up in her lap and she massaged the back of its neck, making it purr. He thought he might like her.

'She's right, Draco,' said Nott. 'Keep that up and you'll embarrass us all. There's nothing to be gained from it.'

'They don't belong here,' said Malfoy. 'It makes everything awkward and the dungeon hates them. Especially the half-bloods and the–'

'If you use that word, I swear to Merlin I'll slap you,' said Astoria.

Harry crept closer to get a look at her face. Sharp features. Small and bird-like with fierce, intelligent eyes. He definitely liked her.

'I was going to say Muggleborn,' said Malfoy. 'I'm not an idiot. And you can't argue that this… This _situation_ ,' he gestured towards Harry, 'isn't awkward for everyone.'

'Not enjoying it any more than you,' said Harry. 'But it's how things are and we need to just get on and make the–'

'The problem is, you don't know how to behave,' said Malfoy, giving Harry an icy stare. 'Half-naked in public.'

Irritation took hold. Why couldn't they just ignore each other? And the common room didn't count as public. 'Piss off. And half-blood? You're still on that track?'

Malfoy's face coloured, but he said, 'You're still a half-blood.'

The sinking feeling of disappointment surprised Harry. He tightened his fingers around his wand. 'I am. And you're still a bigot.'

'It's a fact.' Malfoy's brow creased. 'You're a half-blood.'

'I thought maybe you'd have changed,' said Harry. 'That you'd have learned something.'

Staring at Harry's hand, Malfoy said, 'Put your wand away, Potter, you can't duel in here.'

'But I was raised by Muggles. I'm too dim to know about things like that.'

'This is what I was trying to say.' He turned to the others, smirking.

Harry thought it might be a good time to get back at Malfoy for the Tripping Jinx. He pointed his wand at him.

Malfoy swivelled to face Harry again. 'I mean it, Potter. Don't–'

He wasn't going to take orders from this git. He shot a mild stinging hex at him. Malfoy cursed and ducked, pulling down some of the other Slytherins as well. The hex flashed over Malfoy's head, hit the wall, and ricocheted right back towards Harry. Harry yelped and jumped out of the way. It hit the wall behind him, shot towards the ceiling, then bounced off the floor. The Slytherins shrieked. A number cast shield charms. Harry dodged the jinx again, then crouched with his hands over his head as it continued to snap about the room like a pinball.

After several long seconds the spell lost steam and vanished. Harry stayed on the floor, cringing in anticipation of whatever Malfoy was going to say next.

'Very good,' said Malfoy. 'Throw your wand around like an erumpent in a china shop. You're an idiot, Potter.'

Harry shot up, hands in fists. 'I didn't know, did I?'

'I bloody _told_ you not to do it!'

'You say a lot of things and most of it's bollocks!'

'Oh!' Astoria leapt to her feet. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall. 'It is late and I am tired and you will both settle down this moment or I will curse you to smithereens!'

Harry shoved his wand in his pyjama pocket. 'Sorry,' he said to Astoria.

She glared at him. 'Think about the example you're setting for the younger children.'

Malfoy threw himself into his chair and crossed his arms. It took a moment for Harry to stop staring at him. Merlin, Malfoy made him _itch_. He'd forgotten just how much. He just wanted to… Bloody toffee-nosed pointy-faced arsehole. Harry wanted to spell his mouth shut. He wanted to throw him against a wall and punch his face in.

Throbbing with anger, he returned to the dorm and got into bed. The idea that he'd ever seen Malfoy's presence as pleasantly familiar seemed ridiculous now. Harry hated him and he always would. He tried to read. Tried to fall asleep. He sat up and punched his pillow until his fist ached. He'd meant to go flying, he remembered. But had forgotten. Maybe he'd go now. But that meant walking back through the common room.

He grabbed his pillow and smashed it against his face.

Someone laughed.

Harry dropped the pillow. It was his phantom voice. The boy.

_Don't be angry, Harry. I wasn't spying, I promise._

'Who are you?' Harry lit his wand and searched the corners of his bed curtains. 'Where are you?'

 _I'll tell you,'_ said the voice. _But you have to promise to keep it a secret. He doesn't want anyone to know about us yet._

'Who doesn't? Know about what?' Harry peeked into the dorm room and saw something shimmery disappear around the corner of his bedpost. No one else seemed to be reacting to the voice. He snatched his glasses and put them on, then settled back on his bed.

_Close your eyes._

That didn't seem like a good idea. 'No. Just tell me who you are.'

_Harry, please. I'm scared._

Harry bit his lip, then closed his eyes.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then he felt something cold against his knee, like he was being tapped with an ice cube. A waft of frigid air blew against his face. Startled, his eyelids fluttered open.

Silvery-grey eyes in a silvery-grey face stared back at him. Harry gasped, and pulled away. 'Colin?'

‘Hi, Harry,’ the boy said, dejected. ‘I'm sorry about the haunting. I just wasn't sure what else to do.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued love to Abradytrix, Brightowl, and Magpiefngrl for betaing.

CHAPTER 2

'Please,' said the little ghost, rising to float along the underside of the canopy. 'Don't tell anyone. Not anyone. He gets so cross.'

Harry wondered exactly what there was left to be frightened of once you were a ghost, but he didn't think it would be polite to ask. 'Okay, I won’t tell. Why did you come to me, Colin?'

Colin gave him a quizzical look. 'Because you're Harry Potter.'

'Right.' That's what Harry had suspected. He rubbed his eyes. 'You think I can do something to help.'

'Well,' said Colin. 'You did defeat…' He grinned, wide and mischievous, then flew around in a loop as he said it: 'Vooooooldemoooooort.'

Colin seemed to be a good-natured ghost as far as ghosts went. So far, at least. Harry smiled, but it faded as he remembered Colin as he’d been when alive. 

'And,' said Colin. 'You've crossed over. You've been to the other side and come back again. We haven't.'

'You know about that?' Harry had told Ron and Hermione, of course. But not many people knew the details of what had happened in the forest. Ginny, Hagrid, Professor McGonagall… He thought of Dumbledore–his calm, steady presence at King's Cross–and the usual longing combined with sharp, helpless pain crept in. He dug his fingernails into his knees and forced it away. 

'One of the Hogwarts ghosts was there when it happened. She told us about it.'

Myrtle? The Grey Lady? 'Okay.' Harry shook his head. 'Who's this 'he' you keep mentioning? Why are you scared of him? Is it just the two of you?'

Colin's eyes widened. He slapped his translucent hand over his mouth. 'Not allowed to say,' he whispered through his fingers. 

'You say you're stuck. Nearly Headless Nick told me he chose to stay behind.'

'We didn't choose. It just happened.'

'Colin,' said Harry. 'Does Dennis know?' 

Colin floated down to the mattress. He shook his head. 'He doesn't think it would be a good idea. If people knew about us, they wouldn't be able to move on.' He sniffled, looking miserable. 'Dennis is sad,' said Colin. 'He's really sad.' His face crumpled and he burst into sobs that made his whole body shake. 

Harry cast a quick Muffliato. He looked away until Colin stopped crying. 'How do you think I can help?'

'I don't know.'

'It would be a lot easier if I were allowed to tell Hermione.'

'Yeah. She'd probably figure it out in a jiffy. But don't. He'll be cross enough if he finds out I spoke to you.' 

There was a muffled rustling from across the room, then creaking springs and the sound of bare feet walking on stone. 

Colin gasped, 'Bye, Harry!' then shot right through Harry's chest and disappeared through the back of the bed. 

Harry shuddered and rubbed at his chest to get rid of the wet, icy sensation. His bed curtains parted and Ron poked his head through. From his expression, Harry could tell that he'd assumed it had been Harry crying. Bollocks. 

'All right?' asked Ron.

Harry shrugged and scooted back to the headboard to make space. Ron climbed onto the bed and sat at the foot. He gave Harry an assessing look, then said, 'We may be relegated to the dungeons with the ferret and the rest of the snakes, but look at the bright side.'

'There's a bright side?' Harry pulled his knees to his chest and smiled.

'No classes! No essays, no boring textbooks, no History of Magic, no Snape tossing out detentions. It's all learning on the go. If Hogwarts had been like this in the first place, I'd have had all double E's.' 

'You reckon?'

'Seriously, mate. Jimenez is brilliant. I've learnt more from her in the past weeks than I did all of sixth year.' He shuffled until he was lying down on his back, elbows akimbo, hands beneath his head. Even with his knees bent, he took up most of the bed. 'I still can't believe all that about Snape. All because of your mum. Greasy git was a soppy fucker.' 

An image of Snape when he was young flittered through Harry's mind. Snape, lank-haired and sour-looking as always, but twitchy and visibly paranoid in a way he hadn't been as an adult. Harry's mum walking at his side. _I thought we were supposed to be friends,_ Snape had said. _Best friends. We are,_ said his mum. 

It was still so hard to hold this in his head at the same time as his own memories of the man. Snape so young. Caring about a friend. His mum caring back, at least until they fell out. It made Harry want to like him a little bit, but he couldn't. He didn't know what he supposed to feel about him any more. Snape had loved Harry's mum, and Harry hadn't thought of Snape as someone who could love. And yet Snape had sacrificed his life for it. So regardless of how horrible he'd been in life–and he had been horrible–Harry couldn't help but feel some gratitude. 

He shook his head, then yawned. 

'You want me to stay?' asked Ron. 

'Nah,' said Harry. 'I'd just wake up with your feet in my face again.' 

'What's wrong with my feet?' asked Ron, grinning. He stretched his leg out trying to nudge Harry's face with his toes. 'They're perfectly good feet.'

Laughing, Harry shoved him away. 'They're hairy and smell like mouldy cheese.'

'They bloody do not!' Ron sat up and tried to sniff his own foot. 'Well, maybe a little.'

Ron went back to his own bed. Harry snuggled down beneath his quilt, then cast a warming charm. He'd gotten good enough at them that it should last until morning. 

Colin Creevey. A ghost. Living, well _existing_ , as a ghost seemed to be a miserable thing from what he'd observed. As nice as it was to see Colin smiling and speaking–Harry's last memory of him was of his tiny, lifeless body–he wouldn't wish that existence on anyone. And then there was this 'he' Colin kept mentioning. Some domineering ghost telling Colin what he could and couldn't do. It all sounded very off. 

Still, nothing Harry could do about it just then. He let thoughts of Colin fade away and finally fell asleep. 

***

The mirror in the Slytherin bathroom had a tendency to lob insults at the Gryffindors. Since it used Old English, Harry usually didn't know exactly how he was being insulted. It was clear from the mirror’s tone, but the specifics were mysterious. Once he'd finished brushing his teeth, he pulled out his comb.

'Heard Malfoy gave you a hard time last night,' said Ron, who was shaving.

'He's a git,' said Harry. 'Can't wait until the tower's fixed and we can get out of here.'

'It'll take months. Seamus says they're still at the beginning stages. It's more than just, you know, Reparo.'

Harry forced the comb through his hair, wondering what Meijer had planned for the morning. 'Be nice to go in the common room and just relax again like we used to in Gryffindor. I can't set foot in it without Malfoy having a go at me.' As always, his hair looked exactly the same after he'd combed it as it had before.

'You've only got yourself to blame, mate. Can't believe you had a chance–you had _chances_ –to get Malfoy out of our lives forever and you bollocksed it up.'

Harry laughed. 'What was I thinking? I must have been mental.' He brushed his fingers over his jaw, wondering if he should shave. Ginny'd said he looked dashing with a bit of stubble. He put his comb and toothbrush into his washbag and snapped it closed. 

The mirror spoke in its gravelly voice. 'Sorrow on thee, thou lumpish unchin-snouted hugger-mugger!' 

'Hugger-mugger,' said Ron. 'I always suspected you were a hugger-mugger, Harry.'

'Damn,' said Harry. 'And I thought I was being subtle about it.'

When he entered the dorm room again, Malfoy was standing in the middle, looking like he was about to be sick. 'You okay, M–'

He cut Harry off with a look of such venom that Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket. Malfoy must have heard them talking in the bathroom.

'You're just stupid enough to do it, aren't you?' said Malfoy. 'You'd try and hex me again.'

'No,' said Harry. 

Malfoy stalked to his bed, which was piled with his possessions. He grabbed a book and threw it into his open trunk.

Ron emerged and stood next to Harry. 'Are you leaving?' he asked, sounding hopeful.

'Moving into the fifth year dorm with Theo,' said Malfoy, 'before listening to the drivel you lot consider conversation gives me permanent brain damage.'

'Nice!' Ron turned to Harry, his hand raised for a high five.

Harry hesitated, then slapped it. 

With a flick of his wand, Malfoy lifted everything on his bed and dumped it in this trunk in one go. There was a loud crunch and Malfoy winced and muttered to himself. He slammed the lid shut, levitated it and marched out of the dorm with his chin raised. The trunk bobbed along behind him like an over-sized dog. 

Ron burst out laughing. Harry grinned and rubbed at his eyes, relieved. Without Malfoy in their dorm room, things were bound to get easier.

***

The spell Meijer taught him made their footsteps completely silent as they crept through the forest. Stealth and Tracking. Ron was right, this was the best way to learn. Meijer went first and Harry followed. It felt good to let someone else take the lead, to feel like he was in safe hands. Someone else's hands. Meijer had big hands, square fingers. Nicely groomed nails, unlike Harry's, which were bitten to the nub. 

They wove between the trees. The sun broke through the branches in patches and streaks. The heated earth smelled damp, almost smoky. Harry's pulse beat fast and the back of his neck prickled with perspiration. He could do this. He could be in the Forest without succumbing to anxiety. He tried to breathe, deep and slow, but the smell kept reviving the sick, cold feeling of believing he was about to die. 

'You are uncomfortable,' said Meijer. 'Would you like to take a break?' He had a faint accent, his th's sounded like s's, his vowels strange. He hadn't gone to Hogwarts, Harry knew, but he wasn't sure where he was from originally.

'I'm okay.' Embarrassed, Harry forced a smile. 

Meijer observed him for a moment. Harry willed himself not to fidget. 'I don't think you are okay. But if you want to keep going, we will keep going. It's something you will do as an Auror, too. Missions don't wait for you to have your best day. You must learn to persevere, even when you are not feeling your strongest.'

Warmth spread through Harry's chest. Meijer was always honest, sometimes brutally so, and he never coddled Harry. 

'We'll start with Homenum Revelio. It is simple, but effective.' Meijer demonstrated a series of detection spells, watched Harry as he tried them out, and corrected his wand movement and pronunciation when necessary. 

Half an hour later, they'd completed most of their round. This part of the forest was covered in sticky green moss. Their feet left indentations in it, and Meijer showed Harry how to charm his footprints to vanish as he walked. They passed a series of knee-high domes made of mud and sticks. Meijer knelt to examine them. 'Red cap hutches,' he said. 'I've never seen so many. We must make sure no one goes wandering in the forest alone at night. They're dangerous.'

'We learned about them in Defence against the Dark Arts,' said Harry. Meijer reminded him of Remus a little bit. They were both brilliant teachers. 'They're attracted to blood, aren't they? To battlegrounds.'

Meijer nodded. 'They're hiding now. They won't emerge unless they think we're lost or helpless.'

They moved on, checking the trees, the dirt, the stones. Harry longed to draw him into conversation. To learn more–anything–about him. But it never felt like the right moment. They were always working, concentrating, and he didn't want to look unprofessional. He didn't even know Meijer's first name. He considered asking Meijer about Colin, but remembered how scared the ghost had been that Harry would give away his secret. 

'We'll go deeper,' said Meijer. 'We can't imagine anyone using the forest for shelter will be easy to find.' He gave Harry a questioning look. 'Yes? You are ready?'

Harry nodded. Meijer climbed over a boulder and vanished behind it. After hesitating a moment, Harry followed, his jeans scraping against the sharp edges of the rock. The canopy of branches grew more tangled, letting through less light. A gust of wind made the leaves shiver. He blinked, letting his eye adjust. He peered into the thickening trees, wondering if he'd passed this way before. 

Meijer looked around, examining their surroundings. He nodded. 'I have an exercise. We'll test your new skills.' He winked, then cast a Disillusionment Charm and vanished. The air shifted where he stood; he wasn't quite invisible. 'Give me five minutes head start, then track my movements. Yes?'

'Yes,' said Harry. He felt a little better. A challenge. It would be distracting and possibly fun. 

He counted down the seconds on his watch, then cast the Pulsatio charm Meijer had taught him. Nothing. He set off to look for Meijer, testing the air for changes in temperature. The tracking spells led him even deeper into the forest. Moss coated the trees. The air grew cold and smelt of earth and rotting leaves. He recast Pulsatio, and still heard nothing, felt nothing. 

He was alone. Looking up, he saw only a few thin beams of light breaking through the leaves and branches. A misty chill clouded through the trees. His skin broke out in clammy perspiration, but he continued on, refusing to give in to panic. 

_Pulsatio_. A faint, barely perceptible tapping began inside his head. He went east and it grew fainter, north and it grew louder. He made sure that his footsteps were still silent and continued north. He checked the air and found that there was a slight increase in the temperature. He was on the right track. 

He rounded another boulder and entered a clearing. A heavy rustle told him that something was moving at the far end. Thinking with some disappointment that Meijer had made it too easy, he approached, but then stopped short. His breath caught in his lungs.

Not Meijer. Instead, an elephant sized Acromantula scuttled towards him. Harry stumbled backwards and hit a boulder. Black hairy legs, thick as tree branches. It moved quickly and with intent. Trapped, he looked to the left, then the right, trying to find a path to escape, but came up empty. The spider was almost upon him, close enough that he could see his own frightened face reflected in its multiple shiny black eyes. He sucked in a breath and flattened himself against the rock. It scuttled closer, twigs cracking beneath its feet. Once it was only inches away, it stopped. Harry could smell it, a filthy, meaty stink. Its pincers opened and closed, clicking and snapping. 

Spells sped through Harry's mind. Slowly, he raised his wand, expecting the spider to strike. It didn't. Crouch had killed a spider with the Killing Curse, he remembered. Harry wouldn't use that spell. Incarcerous? Diffindo? Stupefy? Acromantulas were sentient. They could speak. He didn't want to kill it unless he had to.

He pointed his wand at the spider. 'Back away!' 

It clicked at him, but didn't respond. Then it reached towards him with its front legs. 

Panicking, Harry shouted, ' _Diffindo!_ A deep gash opened in one of the legs and the spider screeched, then contracted. Something black and oily pulsed out of the wound. It smelled putrid, sulphuric, and Harry gagged. He raised his wand again, but the spider retreated, crawling away through the clearing then crashing between the trees. 

Panting, he took a moment to catch his breath, then cast Pulsatio once more. Meijer's heartbeat sounded loud and strong inside his head. Harry touched his temple, unsure he liked the sensation. 

'Harry!' Running footsteps, then a disturbance in the air, and Meijer re-appeared looking agitated as the Disillusionment charm melted away. 'Godverdomme! Forgive me. I hadn't think to worry about these monsters. That one must have wandered quite far from the nest.' He rested his hands on his knees, breathing hard. 'You are unharmed?'

'I'm fine.' He looked at the ground, burning with humiliation. 

'Don't be ashamed, you did very well.' 

'I was too slow.' 

'You're being stubborn. It was a training exercise. You will learn in time, don't expect to be perfect from the start.'

Harry kicked at the dirt. He'd wanted so badly to do well, to impress Meijer. He felt young and stupid. 

Meijer sighed. 'I remember what it was like. You have a thirst to succeed. This is good. And you handled the Acromantula like an expert.' He smiled, making an effort to catch Harry's eye. 

'Maybe I should go into that instead of becoming an Auror,’ said Harry. ‘Acromantula taming. I could join a circus.'

Meijer laughed. 'Come. We'll go back now, it's enough for today.'

***

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him at the bottom of the steps leading up into the castle. He could hear their raised voices from yards away. 

'I'm not just saying it's dangerous, Ron.' Hermione's hair bounced as she spoke. 'I'm saying it's stupid. It would be a stupid thing to do.''

Ron stood with crossed arms. 'Oh. Nice,' he said. 'So, I'm stupid.'

Harry paused and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking away. Still smarting from his failure in the forest, he wasn't in the mood to listen to them argue. People trailed by. There was that blonde girl, Astoria, the Slytherin who'd stood up to Malfoy, climbing the steps with her sister and Nott. She glanced at Harry and he smiled. She looked surprised but then smiled back. 

'You aren't stupid,' said Hermione. 'But if you do this, you will be acting in a stupid manner.'

'Those are the same thing!' 

'They are not. You're being intentionally dense.'

'Am I? Which is it then? Am I stupid or am I dense? Make sure you get it right.'

Harry coughed.

'Oh!' said Hermione. She put on a smile. 'Harry, I didn't see you.'

'Here I am,' said Harry. 'Are we going to go? I need to get something from the dorm first.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'You aren't thinking of going along with this ridiculous plan, are you?'

Harry looked at Ron. 'What plan?'

'Ron's got it into his head to go to Glasgow to search for Dolohov. And I've told him–' she glared at Ron–'that they have professional experienced Aurors for that.'

'Were you?' Harry asked Ron. 'When?'

'This weekend.' 

'Right, I'm in,' said Harry. 

Hermione covered her face with her hands. 'No, no, no. I won't let you do this.'

'Hermione,' said Ron, adopting the face he wore when he was trying to appear adult. 'We can't just sit here, roaming the grounds, while that murderer is out there free. I need… I need to find him. He needs to be caught–' He made a fist and slammed it against his open palm. 'And he needs to pay for what he did.' He repeated the gesture. 'For the people he killed. I want to be there when it happens. My brother is dead because of his lot. And Lupin and Tonks and–'

'Please do not list everyone who died,' said Hermione. She gave Ron a look that made him close his mouth. 'I'm well aware.'

'Someone's got to bring Dolohov down,' said Harry. 'It might as well be us.'

'Merlin, Potter. You should see someone about that hero complex. It's likely to get you killed.' 

Harry spun and saw Malfoy standing on the grass a yard away. 

'What am I saying?' Malfoy continued. 'Carry on, by all means. Do us all a favour.'

Harry shot Malfoy a dirty look, then turned away. 

'Oi,' said Ron. 'Stop having a go at Harry.'

'Oi,' Malfoy imitated. 'I'll do as I please.'

Ron walked towards him, pointing his finger. 'Listen you fucking ferret. You'd be dead if it weren't for him. A pile of ashes.'

'Ron…' Harry took his arm. He didn't want another fight, he just wanted to go.

Ron pulled free. 'What're you doing here anyway, Malfoy? As if your lot aren't the reason we have to rebuild Hogwarts in the first place.' He lunged at him then laughed when Malfoy shrank away.

Looking furious, Malfoy straightened up again. 'I've as much right as anyone to be here.'

'Think it'll look good, don't you? Crawling back and trying to fix the damage you caused. That's why. You don't give a fuck about Hogwarts. About any of us. This is all about the,' Ron put on a funny posh voice, ' _Malfoy name_.'

Spots of colour appeared in Malfoy's cheeks. His fingers twitched, but he didn't go for his wand. Harry figured it was because he was outnumbered and knew it would end badly for him.

'And you don't know the half of what he did.' Ron's voice had gone high and raw. 'What he went through.' He took a shuddering breath. 'You dare to have a go at him? You should be kissing his feet, you ungrateful piece of shit.'

'Ungrateful, am I?' Cheeks glowing, Malfoy turned to Harry. 'Is that the problem, Potter? Is that why you… I'm not showing enough gratitude? Not much of a hero if you expect people to grovel at your feet after you save them, are you?'

Harry threw up his hands. 'I never asked for any–'

'Our saviour. That's what they call you. Only you didn't save everyone, did you? The Great Hall was littered with bodies. And yet here you are, begging for _gratitude_.'

Harry went rigid. His pulse surged.

'Oh fuck,' whispered Hermione. 

Harry marched towards Malfoy, whose eyes glittered with gratification even as he stumbled away. Somewhere in the back of his mind Harry knew Malfoy was thinking _bullseye_ , but that didn't hold him back. 'And who did you save?' Harry asked in a low, shaky voice. 'Think you can have a go at me? What did you do?'

'Merlin, Potter.' Malfoy continued backing away, his grin wavering. 

'You'd think,' said Harry. 'That you'd have just a little…' He couldn't say it. Couldn't bring it up. Because he didn't want Malfoy to be grateful. He just wanted him to stop. To leave him alone. All those people. It had been Harry's battle. They didn't need to die. Why hadn't he gone sooner? Remus, Fred, Tonks, Colin. This vortex inside him, tearing everything to pieces. And fucking Malfoy standing there. Like he had the right. 'What did you do?' he shouted. 

He heard Hermione calling out to him and ignored her. 

Malfoy pulled his wand. Harry didn't give him a chance to use it. A split second later, he’d shoved Malfoy flat on the grass and was on top of him. Pressing down his bony shoulder. Making a fist to hit him. With a strangled sound of distress, Malfoy twisted, throwing Harry off balance. They grappled, Malfoy trying to grab Harry's wrist, Harry trying to keep him still. Malfoy arched, their bodies slammed together. Malfoy managed to grab a handful of Harry's hair. Harry whined and got his knee onto Malfoy's stomach. When he tried to use it to hold Malfoy in place, Malfoy yanked. A shudder ran through Harry's body. They both stiffened. Went still. 

Malfoy stared at Harry with wild, darkened eyes. The side of his face coated in grass and dirt, lips trembling. Harry had the strangest impulse. Malfoy caught beneath him. Both of them breathing hard. He thought of tearing open the front of Malfoy's shirt. Scratching his fingers down his chest and biting him. 

As he moved his knee, it slid between Malfoy's thigh and his groin. Malfoy's eyes widened and he jerked. They had another moment of staring at each other. Harry got to his feet. He turned his back. Malfoy scuffled on the ground behind him.

Hermione had her wand out. She shook her head at Harry. He gave her an angry shrug. 'Fighting won't solve anything,' she said.

'You were happy enough to watch while he mauled me,' said Malfoy. He shook his robes to get the dirt off, his eyes darting between them. 

'You deserved it,' said Hermione. 

'Deserves a sight more than that,' said Ron. 

Cold with adrenaline and a little nauseated, Harry brushed grass off his knees. His jeans had been stained. He glanced at Malfoy in time to see him quickly look away. He felt agitated in a way that made him uncomfortable. Like he wanted to put his hands on Malfoy again. He needed to get out of there. 

'Come on,' he said to Ron and Hermione. 'Just forget it. I need to get Teddy's present from the dorm and then we can go.'

***

'Meijer said there were lots of red caps,' said Harry as they entered the Slytherin common room.

Hermione nodded. 'They proliferate on battlegrounds near castles. They're attracted to locations where blood has been spilt.'

'Hogwarts must be a red cap paradise,' said Ron. 

Harry's skin erupted in goosebumps as the cold air seeped through his T-shirt. He headed for the dorm, passing Nott who had a map of the grounds and castle spread over a table. Nott sat bent over, studying it, gnawing on a fingernail. Thin, pock-marked face and wiry brown hair. Every once in awhile he'd tap the map with his wand and mutter. 

Buttoning her jumper, Hermione came over to take a look. 'Did you do the charmwork yourself?' she asked. 

Nott looked up as if he'd been in a trance and twitched when he spotted Hermione. 'Granger.'

Hermione gave him a direct look. Ron approached and stood by her side, glowering down at Nott.

Nott swallowed. 'Flitwick laid the groundwork, I'm filling in the details.' He swept his wand over the map. Golden light bloomed in patches across its width.

'It's brightest where the repairs are most urgent,' said Hermione. 'How wonderful.' She'd started shivering. 'Harry, could you hurry please. I don't know how you stand it down here. It's freezing.'

Nott frowned. Astoria sat by the fire, teasing her cat with a leather cord. She made a tsking sound. 

'You leave off,' said Ron, pointing at her. He wrapped his arm around Hermione and rubbed her shoulders, trying to warm her up.

Astoria's eyes widened and her fingers fluttered over her lips. 'No, you misunderstand me. It's the dungeon.' She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. 'I am fully in favour of Muggleborn rights. They're every bit as magical as we are and we should be welcoming them with open arms rather than falling prey to archaic notions of blood purity. But the dungeon. It's been here for so long, and I'm ashamed to say that Slytherin House has traditionally been rather backwards as far as Muggleborn students are concerned.'

Hermione's lips had taken on a bluish tinge. 'Oh,' she said. 'Oh! Of course, I should have realised. The Resonatia Charm.' She looked around the room, eyeing the Slytherins with disgust. 'Ron, I would like to leave. I'm going to wait outside.'

'Get a move on, mate,' Ron said to Harry, glaring around the room. He walked with Hermione into the corridor outside. 

'We've got to do something about this,' said Astoria. 'It just won't do. Not anymore.'

Harry ran to the dorm room and rummaged in his trunk until he found the rubber toy Snitch he'd bought for Teddy. His stomach buzzed with the nerves. When he looked up, Colin floated a foot away. Harry stumbled backwards in surprise and fell on his bum.

'Sorry,' said Colin, covering his mouth and giggling. 

'You could try not sneaking up on me,' said Harry. He got to his feet and closed his trunk. 

'He says you can tell Hermione, but only her. He says you'd better or we'll be trapped here forever as you've got the brains of a flobberworm.'

So Harry was being insulted by ghosts now. Nice. 'Who is this 'he' you keep talking about? You can tell him I'm going to tell Ron as well.'

'He didn't say you could tell Ron.'

'Well, I'm going to. I don't keep secrets from him.'

'He'll be cross.'

Harry shrugged. 

Colin flew around in a circle for a bit, making an 'Ooooo' sound. He came to rest on the floor, looking queasy. 'It's not all bad being a ghost, you know. But you can still get dizzy.'

'I have to go, Colin. I'll talk to Hermione this evening.' 

He shoved the Snitch in his pocket and joined Ron and Hermione in the corridor. Flitwick had offered the use of his Floo, so they began to climb the stairs, heading towards his office. They'd travel to the Three Broomsticks and then Apparate. 

Harry steeled himself. Ron and Hermione were going to be with him. He'd be okay.

***

Teddy and Andromeda lived in a small cottage overhung by a gnarled oak tree. A small stream trickled behind it. The front garden was laid with flowerbeds that looked as if they'd once been well-tended. 

Andromeda smiled and held her back straight as she welcomed them in, but her eyes spoke of exhaustion. Teddy squirmed in her arms and she clutched him like she'd float away if she let go. Harry tried to imagine what she was going through–her husband and her daughter–and it tore at him. She'd been the good one, the brave one. The sister who'd turned her back on hate. Who'd given up her wealth and family for love. She didn't deserve to be punished like this. 

'So kind of you to visit,' she said, looking between the three of them. 'I trust the repairs are going well?'

'Slow but sure.' Harry tried not to let his anger on her behalf show. 

'Wonderful.' She ran her fingers through Teddy's hair, which was a rich shade of purple. 'If you take him, I'll go and make us all some tea.' 

Hesitantly, Harry nodded. She settled Teddy in his arms. So tiny. Harry was careful to support his head. Teddy waved his arms, wriggling, and Harry held him a bit tighter. He looked a lot like Remus, but his eyes were all Tonks. And his hair, obviously. 

'You'll be fine,' said Andromeda. 'They're hardier than you imagine.'

Andromeda disappeared into the kitchen of the little cottage. Ron and Hermione stood on either side of Harry, gazing at the baby. Ron put his finger against Teddy's palm and let him grip it. 

'You should talk to him, Harry,' said Hermione. 'He'll be starting to recognise people's voices now.'

Teddy stared up at Harry's face as if fascinated by it. His godson. 'What should I say?'

'Anything you like,' said Hermione.

'Not helpful.'

'Ask him what he thinks of the Cannons’ chances this year,' said Ron.

Harry focussed on Teddy and said, 'You reckon the Cannons have the slightest hope in hell? Or will the Falcons smash them and push them straight to the bottom of the league?' 

'That was unnecessary,' said Ron.

Teddy stretched, waved his arms again and then gave them a huge, gummy smile. 

'Oh, look at that,' said Hermione.

Big brown eyes. Teddy would grow up being told he had his mother's eyes. It made Harry feel fiercely protective. 

They moved into the sitting room. Sunshine filtered through leaded glass windows. Birds sang in the trees outside. Harry carefully sat down on the comfortably worn sofa, keeping his eyes on Teddy in case he smiled again. Hermione sat next to him and Ron stood beside her.

'He'll be starting to recognise people soon,' said Hermione.

'How do you know all this?' asked Ron.

'I read up on it last night.'

'Of course you did.' He kissed the top of her head. Ron was always extra affectionate with Hermione after they fought. Usually, when he could, Harry would give them space until they were back to normal.

Andromeda entered the room, four mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits floating smoothly behind her. She sat down in the chair across from the sofa. She had elegant posture–controlled but not stiff. Dark wavy hair, streaked with grey. Her resemblance to her elder sister still gave Harry a bit of a twinge. 

'He looks very comfortable with you, Harry,' she said.

'I've, er, got something for him.' He tried to keep hold of Teddy while reaching into his pocket, but it didn't work.

'I'll take him,' said Hermione. 

Carefully, with some relief, Harry passed him over. 'Be sure to hold his head.'

'I know.' 

Ron sat down on the arm of the sofa and gazed at Hermione holding the baby. 

Harry looked away from his soppy expression and gave Teddy the Snitch. Teddy fingers clamped around it. 'I'll get him his first broom,' Harry said. 'The best there is.' You will never feel alone, he thought, as Teddy gave him another smile. Never. Not if I can help it.

***

'She looks so tired,' whispered Hermione, once they were back in Flitwick's office. She brushed ash off her blouse. 'We should try to visit more often.'

Harry boiled with guilt. He sunk down into a chair and rested his head in his hands. 

Hermione and Ron looked at each other. 

'You've got to stop holding yourself personally responsible for the people who died in the battle, Harry,' said Hermione.

'She's right,' said Ron. 

'I'm not trying to do it.' 

Hermione touched his shoulder. 'Teddy's going to grow up in a world without Voldemort. He'll grow up in a world where he isn't hated for who his father was. Where his father is considered a hero.'

'Still not the same as growing up with a mum and dad.' Neither of his friends said anything. Harry rubbed his face, trying to clear his head. 'Let's go and get dinner.'

By the time they'd descended seven floors to the Great Hall, Harry felt calmer. It was less crowded in the evenings, as the Aurors and builders went home once their workday was over. They sat down just as the food arrived. Sausage and mash. 

He glanced at the other table, where Ginny was sitting with Dean. Dean whispered something, making her laugh. Her hair shook against her back. She looked happy. Harry was glad she was happy, but he missed her. Or at least he missed the future he'd envisioned. He turned to say something to Ron, but he was gazing at Hermione with that sappy smile again.

'What?' Hermione asked, smiling back, looking shy.

'You've got gravy on your nose.'

'Have I?'

'A bit. It's because you're scrumptious, like a sausage.'

'I don't think it's very flattering to be compared to a sausage, Ron.'

'Still makes me want to nibble on you.'

Harry didn't want to know where that conversation was going, so he tuned it out and concentrated on his food. Only now Parvati and Lavender had started up too. They were full on snogging, right there at the table. What the hell had the elves put in the gravy? Harry pushed his plate away and crossed his arms.

McGonagall was walking across the Great Hall towards the exit. Harry turned to Ron and Hermione to tell them he'd see them later, but they were still wrapped up in each other. He slid off the bench and ran to catch up. 'Professor?'

'Potter.' McGonagall had a knowing expression, as if she'd guessed what Harry was going to ask. She kept walking at a swift pace and Harry kept up with her.

'I, er, I was wondering if I could possibly see the portrait again.'

She pursed her lips. 'I suppose there's no point in postponing the inevitable. Very well, come with me.'

Harry hurried at her side all the way back up to the seventh floor. She moved surprisingly quickly for a woman her age; her tartan robes rustled as she strode. 

When they reached her office, she turned to Harry and gave him a direct look. 'You must understand that the figure in the portrait is not Professor Snape. I cannot stress this enough. A portrait comprises only a small portion of the living person's personality and memories. And only what they chose to share with their portrait painter.' 

'I understand,' said Harry. 

'So don't expect very much from him. He, along with the other portraits in the Head's office, is intended as a retainer of history, a source of advice. Nothing more.'

Harry shifted on his feet, both eager and nervous. He nodded. 

She unlocked her office door. 'I'm assuming you'd prefer a private conversation?'

'Yes, please.' 

'I shall be in my quarters. Will twenty minutes be enough time?'

Harry couldn't begin to imagine having a conversation with Snape that would last twenty minutes, much less longer than that. 'I'm sure that will be fine.'

McGonagall paused, a line between her brows.

'I'll be okay, Professor,' said Harry. 

She patted him on the shoulder then left. 

Harry open and closed his fists. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, then entered the office. He wasn't entirely surprised to find Snape sleeping. Or appearing to sleep. Harry wasn't fooled. Snape sat too still, his breath shallow, intentional. He took the time to prepare himself. To think about what he wanted to say, to ask. What he wanted to tell him. When he was ready, he said, 'I can tell you're faking, you know. You're awake. You're just ignoring me.' As an afterthought, he added, 'Sir.'

Nothing changed. He waited leaning back against the desk. Snape gave a theatrical little snore and Harry snickered. He wondered if it would make a difference if he poked the canvas. Possibly with a stick. His wand, maybe. He drew it and approached the canvas. Hesitantly, carefully, he lifted his wand, extended it, and poked Snape on the shin, which was as high as he could reach. 'Stop ignoring me, Snivellus.'

One of Snape's eyes popped open. Harry grinned in triumph.

'Insolent child,' said Snape, giving him a filthy look. 'I suspected you'd return to torment me with your presence. You never could leave well enough alone. Try not to bore me to tears, if possible, they wreak havoc on the paint.'

' _…only what they chose to share with their portrait painter,_ ' McGonagall had said. Harry wondered how that conversation had gone. He imagined Snape informing the painter of his contempt for Harry. What he thought of him. 

'Well?' asked Snape. 

Harry licked his lips. 'I wanted to ask you about my mother,' he said, then braced himself, expecting an aggressive rebuke.

'Your mother,' said Snape. 'What on earth would I have to say to you about your mother?'

'I saw your memories,' said Harry. 'You gave them to me. It must have been after you were painted. But you gave them to me. So I'd know… What I had to do.'

Snape stared down his hooked nose, his knuckles going white where they clutched the armrests of his chair. 'And you did it,' he said. 'It would appear.'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'I did it.' 

They stared at each other. Snape's gaze was as sharp and invasive as Harry remembered. He clenched his teeth, determined not to squirm. Snape must be surprised. He'd probably expected him to fail. Harry stood straighter, refusing to look away, bristling with resentment. 

'Mr Potter,' said Snape. 'Do not presume to imagine that we are now intimates. I did only what was necessary. I followed Dumbledore's orders. I did what I could to keep you to your necessary path. You weren't expected to survive.' He raised an eyebrow. 'I knew this and I nevertheless urged you onwards.'

Harry considered this–the things Snape had done to help him along the way. 'You brought the sword.'

'On Dumbledore's orders.'

'And you left it at the bottom of an icy pool.' Harry glared. 'Sir.'

Snape gave him a nasty smile. 'Conditions of need and valour. Those were the instructions I was given.'

Harry snorted. Snape still hadn't provided what he wanted. He leant back against the desk. What wasn’t sure what he did want. He only knew that his thoughts about Snape were unsettled–unfinished in a way that gnawed at him. 

'Would you… I'd really like to know more about you and my mum.' Because that was the core of it. The one thing about him to which Harry could relate. The beginnings of a map for a man who was all murk and quagmire.

'I have nothing to say on this subject.'

'I know,' Harry said. 'I know that you… That you loved her.'

Snape stared at him. He looked away, frowning. 'I cannot tell you anything about her.'

'I'm trying to understand,' said Harry. 'You kept so many secrets. If you'd only–'

'Enough!' said Snape. 'I am not beholden to you, Potter. I fulfilled any debts owed while I was alive.'

'But was she the only reason?' Harry persisted. 'You wouldn't have done any of it if not for her?'

'You persist in questioning me when I have told you multiple times that I will not answer. I see you are no less bull-headed than before.'

'But, Sir–'

Snape scowled, and then with a flap of his cloak, he strode out of frame and disappeared. 

Harry thought again about what McGonagall had said: 'only what they choose to share.' The portrait didn’t know, he realised. The real Snape hadn't told it, at least not in detail. What had Dumbledore said? 'I shall never reveal the best of you.' Snape would never have revealed his heart to anyone unless forced. Harry sagged against the desk, brooding. All those years of anger, of hatred. Was he meant to let it all go now that he knew the truth? Could he still hate Snape, knowing what he'd done? What he'd sacrificed? 

The office door opened and Professor McGonagall entered. 'Ah,' she said. 'Was that perhaps less satisfying than you'd hoped?'

Harry shrugged. 'It's just a painting.'

'Yes, Potter.' She sighed and shook her head. 'I'm afraid Severus Snape will always remain a mystery, as much as many of us would seek to understand him.' She patted him on the arm and moved behind her desk. 'Now, if you don't mind, I have some work to do.'

'Yes, Ma'am,' said Harry. 'Thank you. For letting me talk to him. To it. For letting me see the portrait again.'

Slowly, Harry descended the spiral steps, lost in his thoughts. When he reached the corridor, he paused to look out a window. It was a bright evening, warm and still. A trail of smoke curled from Hagrid's chimney. The Forbidden Forest spread out into the distance. He'd grab one of the school brooms, he decided. Flying would clear his head. Feeling a bit more cheerful, he set off, but then stopped short.

Malfoy stood a couple yards away, eyeballing him. Harry hadn't heard him approach. 

Merlin, he didn't have the energy. 'I don’t want another fight.'

'Don't start one then,' said Malfoy. 

'Don't plan to,' said Harry, already irritated. He hadn't been the one to cause trouble. He waited for Malfoy to walk on, but he didn't. He stood there, wearing an expression that made Harry want to go for his wand. 'Look,' Harry said, trying to keep his voice level. 'There's no reason why we have to keep fighting. I don't want it. We… We should be beyond it at this point.'

'I'm not doing anything, Potter,' said Malfoy. He cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Harry had an urge to shove him down, maybe punch him. To wipe the snotty look off his face. He remembered the thought he'd had earlier–ripping Malfoy's shirt open. His face prickled. He broke their gaze and strode past Malfoy, heading for the end of the corridor and the staircase. He had to go, to get out of there quickly, or something bad was going to happen. 

'Besides, you're the one who jumped on me,' said Malfoy. 'You've always been a bit wrong in the head but it's gone beyond the pale. Someone should lock you up. You've served your purpose, after all. Tuck you away in St Mungo's and spare the rest of us.'

Harry halted. He quivered, taught as a bow. 'Why don't you shut up?' Slowly, he turned. He was still in control. He wasn't going to lose it. 'And I only jumped you because you can't seem to lay eyes on me without having a go. It's always been like that with you. Gives you a thrill, does it? Trying to rile me up?'

Malfoy's smirk fell away. He stood still and tense, red patches spreading across his cheeks. 'The only thing that gives me a thrill is watching you walk away.' The flush spread down to his jaw. 'I mean… When you're gone. Absent. Your absence is my thrill. I relish each moment I don't have to look at your idiotic face.'

'Funny, because I never notice whether you're around or not,' said Harry. His muscles tensed, his hold on himself unravelling. 'And if you don't like my face, then stop looking at it!' He cringed at his words. He hated how Malfoy dragged him back into childhood.

'I wish I could. But you're always there, lording it over the rest of us.' Malfoy started walking towards Harry, waving his arms as he spoke. 'Great hero! Our saviour!' He sneered. 'You brought him down with Expelliarmus. Pathetic. You're no hero, you were just lucky.' 

Harry had an intense desire to back away, but refused to give into it. 'Stop going on about it! You don't know… You don't know anything! I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. You're nothing but a pathetic, snivelling coward and you wouldn't–'

Malfoy punched him. 

Harry reeled back in shock. He had not expected that. A hex or a curse, but Malfoy never used his fists. He touched his face where it stung. Malfoy gaped, apparently as surprised as Harry. He looked at his knuckles. Then he grinned, wide and mad, and swung at Harry again. Harry snapped out and grabbed his wrist before he made contact. They struggled, Malfoy trying to pull his arm free, Harry trying to stop him. They tripped over each other's feet, moving backwards. Malfoy knocked into him, bouncing Harry against the wall. 

It felt good. It felt like what he needed–an excuse to release his pent up animal anger. 'Fuck you, Malfoy,' he said, and shoved and scratched at him. It felt so good: the smell of Malfoy's sweat, the need to bruise him. Malfoy grabbed a hunk of Harry's hair and yanked. Harry made a sound far too much like a moan. 

Malfoy froze, lips parted, eyes wide. Harry willed his face not to colour. Avid, focussed, Malfoy tightened his grip on Harry's hair and tugged. Harry gasped, growing hot, then squeezed his face shut. He felt weightless. He wavered in Malfoy's grasp. Then he plunged back into the moment: the sting in his scalp, Malfoy's hard body pressing tight against him, his chest and shoulders heaving. 

Harry's knuckles shone white where they twisted the fabric of Malfoy's shirt. His thigh stung where Malfoy's knee jabbed into it. The heat between their tangled bodies surged like a living thing. 

Malfoy smiled, something cruel in his eyes, and dug his fingers deep into the flesh of Harry's arm. The soft pain drew out another dizzying wave of fever. Heat began to swirl, beating along with Harry's pulse, coalescing in his stomach, lower, growing solid, and Harry went white with panic. 

'Let me go.' He tried to twist. Tried to shove Malfoy away, but Malfoy clung, holding him tighter, drinking in Harry's alarm. He slammed Harry back against the wall and pressed him there tight and helpless. Harry's knees went liquid. His face stung with shame. 

'What if I don't?' said Malfoy, his voice high with excitement. He raised his knee between Harry's legs, making Harry swallow the sound that tried to swell from his throat. Malfoy's body quivered against Harry's, alive with tension. 'Merlin,' he said. 'You've gone red as a liquorice whip.'

'Let me _go_ , Malfoy!' Harry struggled, which made Malfoy's knee press hard against him and sent sickening pleasure up his spine. He whimpered, torn between panic and the desire to thrust into the growing ache and increase it. He hit Malfoy's chest hard enough to wipe the triumph off his face. Harry went for his wand, whipped it out and jabbed it hard against Malfoy's jaw. Malfoy cried out and let him go. 

Breathing hard, Harry swivelled, backing away, his wand still pointed at Malfoy's throat. 'I… I will…' 

Gasping along with him, Malfoy rubbed the spot where Harry had poked him, still looking smug. Looking pleased and hungry. 'Go on and run, Potter,' he said. 'It'll keep for later.'

Adrenaline iced Harry's insides. 'I'll hex you six ways from Sunday later.' 

Malfoy's eyes moved as if he were deciding something, building up courage. 'I'll hold you down harder next time.' His lips quivered and his voice fell to a whisper. 'I'll tie you up.'

Fresh excitement froze Harry on the spot until he wrenched himself free of it. He shot a stinging hex at Malfoy's cheek, which made him yelp and draw his own wand. They faced each other, eyes locked, wands pointed. 

Harry couldn't think. 'You try anything like that and I swear to god I'll make you wish I'd left you to the fire.' Malfoy went white and Harry wished he hadn't said it. It was too much. Horrible and vicious. 'No–'

'You think about that a lot, don't you?' said Malfoy, bled dry of his bright energy. 'That it was a mistake, coming back for me.' 

'No!' Harry lowered his wand. 'I was just…' He wasn't going to admit anything to Malfoy. He crossed his arms. 'Just don't try anything or you'll regret it.'

'Noted.' Malfoy straightened up again and pocketed his wand. He smirked, but it seemed forced. 'I'll just wait for you to come to me.'

'Whatever.' Harry scowled, then turned his back on Malfoy. He stomped away, refusing to look back. Malfoy was dreaming if he thought Harry would ever "come" to him. What did that even mean? He shoved away the guesses that threatened to flood his imagination and fled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love and thanks to Abradystrix and Magpiefngrl for betaing. 
> 
> This chapter has a very, very mild dub-con warning.

It wasn't until a week or so later that Harry realised he'd never told Ron and Hermione about Colin. He'd been… preoccupied. Every time he thought about Malfoy and what had happened, his skin burned and his pulse sped up in panic. He tried not to think about him. Each time a Malfoy-oriented thought appeared Harry would remind himself that he wasn't going to think about Malfoy. He was going to put Malfoy right out of his head. But there was something so familiar about letting his thoughts run in that direction, as if he'd worn grooves into his mind during his sixth year. _What was Malfoy up to?_ It didn't matter. Harry didn't care. He just wanted Malfoy to leave him alone.

Only Malfoy wouldn't stop _looking_ at him. The back of Harry's neck would prickle and he'd know Malfoy was at it again. _Staring_. His gaze heated Harry, making him colour against his will. He hated it. Malfoy would be there, chin resting on his hands as he lounged on the armrest of the sofa. That fucking smirk. An eyebrow raised. _I'm waiting_. He could keep waiting; Harry wasn't going to do whatever Malfoy expected him to do. Although he could go over and shove him off the sofa, push him down on the floor and… 

Harry spent the next week avoiding the Slytherin Common Room as much as he could, given that he had no choice but to pass through it several times a day. He kept an eye out for that white-blond head, which made avoiding Malfoy easier, but clashed with his resolve not to think about him. He absolutely refused to allow himself any Malfoy thoughts when he was in the shower or in bed at night. Or in the morning. Or any time he found himself alone. He tried not to lose his mind.

It was easier to forget about Malfoy when he was with Meijer. He threw himself into practicing the magic Meijer taught with such fervour that Meijer suggested he calm down a bit. 

They were leaving the forest. It was a little over an hour before lunch. 

'Too much passion can be distracting,' Meijer said. 'You think of how you feel about the work and not enough about the work itself.'

'Right,' said Harry, scratching his head. 'So how do I know what the right amount is? Or what's too much?'

'This is what you will learn in time. Do not worry.'

'Worrying will distract me too, won't it? I can't think about how I feel too much, can't worry too much. Can't imagine how I'm going to get anything done at all, to be honest.'

Meijer laughed. Harry loved making him laugh. It gave him a burst of pride. He grinned, enjoying the way Meijer's eyes crinkled at the corners. 

When he looked back towards the hill he spotted Malfoy and Nott descending towards the lake. Nott had his map rolled up under his arm. Malfoy stopped and stared. Looking irritable, Nott grabbed Malfoy's elbow and whispered to him. Malfoy jerked his arm away. Harry cursed to himself, then stepped away from Meijer. 

Malfoy didn't hide his thoughts. He looked from Harry to Meijer and back again, eyes narrowed. Harry braced himself, waiting for Malfoy to say whatever vicious, humiliating thing he was going to say–to embarrass him in front of Meijer. And Harry would kill him. He would beat him until there was nothing left but a puddle of snotty git on the grass. To his surprise, Malfoy only lifted his chin then continued on his way. 

'He looked as if he was going to attack,' said Meijer. 'I know about his family. They fought for the Dark Lord, yes?'

It was odd to hear Meijer say _Dark Lord _. 'For Voldemort, yeah.' Harry shifted on his feet, still uncomfortable. 'I think they regretted it in the end, though. His mother… She turned against him. Saved my life, actually.'__

__'This is the truth?'_ _

__Harry nodded. He had an urge to say more. To tell Meijer about what had happened in the Forest that night. He'd thought about it a lot. Narcissa Malfoy: the woman who'd threatened Harry's life only a year earlier, who'd given up Sirius–her own cousin–to Voldemort. She'd risked everything for her son. For Malfoy. If she hadn't, Harry would be dead and Voldemort would rule the wizarding world. Love could inspire even the worst people to make miraculous choices._ _

__He couldn't start talking to Meijer about love, though. That would be weird and awkward._ _

__Meijer said goodbye for the day and Harry found himself with a bit of free time. He wandered towards the Quidditch pitch to see what Ginny was doing. The pitch looked great, almost good as new. The grass, which had been scorched and gouged after the Battle, spread unblemished before him, an expanse of sunlit jade. He squinted at the sky, noting that the morning's clouds had dispersed. Ginny darted through the air, a vibrant bolt of red, chasing the Snitch with Cho. At the far end, Dean hovered by the hoops. Harry couldn't make out the details of the magic he was using, but it was fascinating to watch the paint creeping up the goal posts, covering plain wood with red, green, yellow and blue stripes. He buzzed with longing and excitement. Ron had talked about organising House unspecific Quidditch teams. Harry decided to remind him of the idea and see if they could get things organised._ _

__A shout of triumph broke the breezy silence, and Harry saw that Ginny had caught the Snitch. He applauded and she looked down and spotted him. Harry waved and both girls waved back. When he saw that they were starting another game, he decided to return to the castle to read a bit before lunch._ _

__He was halfway up the hill when he saw Malfoy again. He strode faster, hoping Malfoy would let him be, but no such luck. Malfoy was fast. He caught up and fell into step beside Harry, looking smug._ _

__'Thought you were going to wait for me to come to you,' said Harry, hunching his shoulders._ _

__Malfoy snorted. 'What's with you and the Auror, Potter? Like them big and brawny, do you?'_ _

__'Piss off.'_ _

__'A bit old for you, isn't he?'_ _

__'It's not like that. He's… He's my mentor.'_ _

__'That what you're calling it?'_ _

__Harry's temper rose. When they reached the top of the hill, he stopped and slid his fingers beneath his glasses to rub his eyes. There had to be some other way to get Malfoy off his back, something that didn't involve touching him, even with a fist. He lowered his hands and Malfoy's expression made a flush creep up his neck. Hermione looked at books that way._ _

__Malfoy was prideful. Maybe he'd stop if Harry embarrassed him badly enough. 'Jealous, are you?'_ _

__As Harry had guessed, Malfoy's lip curled and he crossed his arms. He didn't leave, though. 'So you admit it. You fancy him.'_ _

__Harry put as much contempt into his voice as he could. 'You seem to care an awful lot about it. Why are you so obsessed with me?'_ _

__Malfoy glared, licking his lips. The pink tip of that tongue darting over a mouth that looked softer than Harry had realised. Smooth, pale skin curving over sharp cheekbones. Grey eyes that always seemed to glitter. And that long, lean body, just short of truly skinny. Stronger than it appeared, Harry remembered, and always held with elegant confidence. Poise begging to be shattered. Harry wanted to grab him and shake him._ _

__Malfoy's strange little smile showed that he'd noticed Harry staring. 'You don't even know yet, do you?'_ _

__Harry knew exactly what he meant so he didn't answer._ _

__'Or maybe you do,' Malfoy continued, moving closer with slow, measured movements. 'You just can't stand that I'm the one who made it clear.'_ _

__'I can't stand anything about you,' said Harry._ _

__Malfoy reached towards him. His hands wavered. He placed one of them lightly on Harry's shoulder then whispered, close enough that his breath puffed against Harry's neck. 'And I deeply and passionately despise you. But we don't need to like each other to deal with this... tension.'_ _

__A hard shiver ran through Harry's body. He wanted… God, Malfoy made him so… He looked down to see if it was obvious and Malfoy snorted. Harry's fingers twitched and he was shocked to see that they were resting against Malfoy's waist. Fabric against his fingertips and skin beneath it. He gathered the material into his fists. 'I should drag you down on the grass and see to you once and for all,' he said, not really knowing what he was saying. Knowing exactly what he was saying._ _

__Malfoy's knees dipped and he whimpered. 'God dammit, Potter. What are you going to do? Just do it already.' He moved even closer and Harry felt him hard against his thigh, insulting and presumptuous. How dare Malfoy be hard for Harry? How dare he show Harry by practically rubbing up against him. Harry could grab him. He could grab Malfoy's crotch and squeeze and see how he reacted to that. 'Just do it,' said Malfoy, his voice ragged._ _

__Harry shoved him hard and then stumbled away. For fuck's sake, they were right out in the open where anyone could see. He looked around, but there was no one in sight. He took a long, shaky breath. 'Stay away from me.' It came out more like a whine than a command._ _

__Harry squeezed his eyes shut, then marched towards the castle, making his strides as long as he could. He wouldn't give Malfoy the satisfaction of seeing him run. He was going to find a broom and he was going to fly until he was so exhausted that he wouldn't even remember Malfoy's name, much less what he felt like trapped beneath Harry's body on the ground._ _

__***_ _

__Two hours later Harry trudged back into the castle with his hair tangled and his face wind-bitten and glowing. Every muscle in his body hummed with use and he felt more relaxed than he had in ages. He had been practicing feints and had wiped out several times, so his clothes were soaked with mud. He had just enough time for a quick shower before lunch, and was pleasantly surprised to find that Malfoy didn’t intrude into his thoughts even as the water sluiced across his skin._ _

__As he entered the Great Hall, he made an effort not to look at the Slytherin end of the table or to pay any attention to Malfoy at all. Instead, he glanced at Dean and Ginny. He and Dean got along as well as usual in the dorm, but as soon as Ginny was in the room it was like Harry didn't exist. As if he thought Harry might swoop in and steal her away. If Dean thought that, then he didn't know Ginny. She wouldn't be swooped. She was unswoopable. The fact that she was with Dean meant she wanted to be with Dean. Harry hoped Dean figured that out before it irritated Ginny to the point that she dumped him again. He slid in next to Ron. Hermione sat across from them, which gave Harry peace of mind, knowing he wouldn't have to put up with watching them snog._ _

__Daphne Greengrass strode in, Astoria at her side. She headed straight for the Slytherins at the far end of the table, her heels clicking against the stone floor. As they passed the larger group, Astoria stopped. Daphne continued on for a moment, then noticed her absence._ _

__'Storie? What are you doing?'_ _

__Astoria gave her a defiant look, squared her shoulders and then slid in between Luna and Seamus. Everyone went quiet. Astoria folded her hands in her lap and smiled around the table. 'Would you mind passing the carrots, please…' She paused for a moment, looking at Hannah as if trying to remember her name. 'Hannah.' She nodded to herself._ _

__Beaming, Hannah passed her the dish. 'Of course, Astoria.'_ _

__'Storie!' hissed Daphne._ _

__'Thank you very much, Hannah.' She pushed her thick blonde hair off her shoulder and helped herself to carrots._ _

__'You are very welcome, Astoria,' said Hannah._ _

__'Would you like some chicken, Astoria?' asked Parvati._ _

__'No thank you, Padma. I don't eat meat. But I'd love some nut roast.'_ _

__Parvati's brow creased at the name and she glanced at Lavender. Lavender shook her head. 'Here you go, Astoria.' Parvati slid the nut roast across the table._ _

__'Thank you so much, Pad–'_ _

__'That's Parvati,' said Luna. 'I think you have her mixed up with her twin.' She pointed to Padma, sitting at the other table with Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Cho. Padma waved._ _

__Astoria went bright red. 'I'm terribly sor–'_ _

__'Don't worry,' said Parvati. 'It happens all the time.'_ _

__'Are you going to stay there?' asked Daphne, arms crossed._ _

__'I am,' said Astoria._ _

__'Fine!' Daphne gave Seamus an imperious look. Seamus scooted over to make room for her. She sat down and spoke into her sister's ear. 'You're a troublemaker.'_ _

__Astoria raised her chin and took a bite of nut loaf. Harry hadn't realised they served nut roast at Hogwarts. It didn't look very appetising._ _

__'It's no trouble,' said Luna. 'I think it's very nice that some of the Slytherins are joining us.'_ _

__'So do I,' said Hermione. She wore an expression that told Harry she'd decided on a new project._ _

__Ron looked like he'd just been diagnosed with dragonpox._ _

__'We're just going to have to grin and bear it,' Harry told him. 'Look at her.' He gestured towards Hermione. 'The rest of them'll be sitting with us too by the end of the week.'_ _

__Malfoy made a scoffing sound and a shiver swept across Harry's skin._ _

__'Stop listening in on our conversations, Malfoy,' said Ron._ _

__'Keep the volume down then, this is forced eavesdropping, it's not voluntary,' responded Malfoy, then took a bite of his chicken._ _

__Harry shot him a glare. Malfoy tried to smirk around a mouthful of food, but ended up looking like he'd eaten something unpleasant. His cheeks went red. It was remarkable how clearly his blushes stood out against his pale skin. And yet his lips were quite pink. Malfoy swallowed, noticed Harry was still looking, and then he gave Harry a look that made Harry turn away very quickly, feeling his own cheeks heat._ _

__'Astoria's all right,' Harry told Ron. 'I don't mind if she sits with us. I like her.'_ _

__'Do you?' said Ron, one eyebrow raised._ _

__'Not like that. She's just… She's not like the other Slytherins.'_ _

__'Meaning she's not a repugnant little snot?'_ _

__Harry snorted. 'Yeah.' He pushed his chips around on his plate with his fork. 'She seems all right.'_ _

__'You should eat a bit more,' said Daphne to her sister. 'You need to keep your strength up.'_ _

__'Stop mothering me,' said Astoria. 'I'm fine.'_ _

__After pudding had been served–treacle tart with pumpkin ice cream–Harry got up to follow Ron and Hermione. Full of good food, still loose-limbed from flying, he watched lazily as the Bloody Baron floated down the middle of the hall. The ghost swept through the Slytherin end of the table, moving directly through Malfoy. Malfoy made a squeaky surprised noise and almost fell off the bench. Harry grinned. Then he grabbed Hermione's arm, feeling guilty. 'I forgot, I need to tell you about something.'_ _

__'Is it about Malfoy?' asked Ron, scowling._ _

__Harry stared at him. 'What?' He looked from Ron's face to Hermione's and back again. How… They couldn't know._ _

__Ron raised an eyebrow. 'You were just looking at him. I thought–'_ _

__'It's nothing to do with Malfoy,' said Harry, knowing he sounded way too adamant._ _

__'Okay?'_ _

__'What is it, then?' asked Hermione. She gazed preoccupied back at the Slytherins still gathered at the table._ _

__'I can't tell you here. Will you come back with Ron and me?'_ _

__'No, I will not. Not until we've sorted that awful place out once and for all. You two will come with me to Hufflepuff.'_ _

__Ron lit up. 'Will there be cake?' He turned to Harry. 'They always have cake.'_ _

__***_ _

__Hermione drew her wand and tapped the barrel in the middle of the second row: tap, tap, tap-tap-tap. The lid sprang open and she crawled through. Ron spent a second too long admiring the view, so Harry kicked him._ _

__'Bloody hell, mate.' Ron glared at Harry, then dragged his lanky body through the opening. Harry followed after._ _

__'It's like crawling out of a hole into the sun again,' said Ron, smiling happily. 'I should have been a Hufflepuff.'_ _

__'Hufflepuffs are hard-working,' said Hermione._ _

__'Yeah, probably best things turned out as they did.'_ _

__Harry took a moment to adjust to the palpable contrast between the Hufflepuff common room and Slytherin. It was what he imagined it would be like inside a beehive–everything bright and warm and yellow. The air smelt sweet and clean, despite the fact that they were mostly underground. Possibly because every flat surface was covered in plants. The round windows at the tops of the walls let in streaks of sunlight. Just being there made Harry feel relaxed and happy, like he belonged. Like he was with family who'd protect him no matter what. Which was odd as he hardly knew anyone in Hufflepuff._ _

__Neville sat hunched on one of the puffy yellow sofas. 'I did do it right,' he said, looking cross and damp. Harry got a strong whiff of vinegar as they moved past. 'Hel-ga Huff-el-puff.'_ _

__'You forget the 'el' sometimes.' Hannah fussed over him._ _

__'Tapped the wrong barrel again?' asked Ron, grinning._ _

__'Leave him alone,' said Hannah. She waved her wand over Neville and the vinegary smell vanished, leaving his hair and clothes dry. They smiled at each other in a way that made Harry wistful. Neville deserved that. He deserved to be loved like that._ _

__Hufflepuff was much livelier than Slytherin. It seemed that the majority of students who'd returned for the reconstruction were housed there. The Hufflepuffs themselves, of course: Hannah, Ernie, Justin, Susan Bones. Some others whose names Harry wasn't sure of and students from other years. No Zacharias Smith, which wasn't a surprise. But most of the Ravenclaws too, and the female Gryffindors._ _

__Harry started to feel a bit irked. 'Why are we living in the fucking dungeon, again?'_ _

__'It wouldn't be right to leave the Slytherins all on their own,' said Hermione._ _

__'Not nice to leave _us_ alone with _them_.'_ _

__'Plus you'd eat all our cake,' said Padma, as she sprayed one of the ferns with a tiny copper water bottle._ _

__Hermione smiled and gestured for Harry and Ron to follow her._ _

__Ron grinned. He grabbed a currant bun from a tray on a nearby table and took a large bite. 'Padma's got a point,' he said through crumbs. 'We would eat all their cake.'_ _

__Hermione led them into the bedroom. Luna was sitting on her bed, bent over Lavender, who was cross-legged on the floor in front of her. She wove vines through Lavender's dark-blond hair. The vine's large purple flowers in combination with Lavender's scars gave her a fierce, wild look._ _

__Parvati knelt in front of her girlfriend. 'You look so beautiful,' she said, touching Lavender's face, her eyes brimming with tears. 'Like a warrior princess.'_ _

__Lavender's lips trembled. 'Don't you start or you'll get me going too.' They started kissing._ _

__Ron whistled, very casual, and plonked himself down on one of the beds. He bent his face towards his knuckles, but Harry could see him watching the girls out of the corner of his eye._ _

__'Passion flowers attract friendship and prosperity,' said Luna. 'And they're known to increase the libido.'_ _

__'Er, do they really need that?' asked Harry._ _

__Luna patted Lavender on the head and stood. 'We should leave now,' she said to the girls. 'Harry wants to say something secret to Ron and Hermione.'_ _

__Once they were alone in the room, the three of them gathered on Hermione's bed. Harry ran his fingers through his hair, considering what to say. Colin had given him so little to go on. He decided to just present the facts as they were._ _

__'Right,' said Harry. 'Colin Creevey is a ghost.'_ _

__'Oh,' said Hermione, her hand going to her mouth. 'Oh no.' Her eyes started to glisten._ _

__'Colin?' said Ron. 'I never would have thought…' He frowned and wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulders._ _

__Harry felt bad about not anticipating Hermione's reaction. 'He's… He seems okay about it? Cheerful even.'_ _

__Hermione wiped her eyes and took a few deep breaths until she was able to speak. 'It's just awful. He'll never be able to move on now. People become ghosts when they can't let go of their lives. When they're obsessed with revenge or unable to accept their death. When they can't let go of their connection to the world. I just don't think that sounds like Colin.'_ _

__'Well,' said Harry. 'Yeah. He says that it wasn't his choice.'_ _

__'Not his choice?' asked Ron. 'What, like he got stuck?'_ _

__'Something like that. And he's not alone. There's some other ghost bossing him around. Sounds like a real git. Colin's afraid of him.'_ _

__'Where did you see him?' asked Hermione._ _

__'He came to me in the dorm. He thinks I can help them.'_ _

__'Well,' said Hermione. 'I'm sure Professor McGonagall–'_ _

__'I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone except you two. He was really adamant about that. This other ghost wants it all kept secret.'_ _

__'Sounds dodgy as hell if you ask me,' said Ron._ _

__'I don't know,' said Harry. 'But let's keep it between us for now. It's not as if… We'll he's not in any real danger, is he? Being a ghost and all.'_ _

__'I've never heard of this before. Spirits being held back in the material world against their will,' said Hermione. 'I'll do some research.' She nodded, her sorrow gone now that she had a plan of action._ _

__***_ _

__Hermione set off for the library while Harry and Ron returned to the Slytherin common room. Malfoy usually spent afternoons with Professor McGonagall, working on some of the more intricate repairs that required Transfiguration. This meant that the dungeons would probably be safe. Ron said the password– _splinter_ –and the stone door slid open. The cold air hit Harry like a shower of icy water after the warmth of Hufflepuff, making him break out in goose pimples. He rubbed his bare arms. 'Gonna get a jumper,' he said to Ron. _ _

__Nott looked up from his map and watched as they crossed the room. He was like some kind of gargoyle, always there, peering at them. Harry gave him a nod to see what he'd do. Nott nodded back. As with Malfoy, Harry wondered what had drawn him back to Hogwarts. He was relatively friendly, but his father was serving a life sentence in Azkaban for what he'd done during the war. Harry wanted to trust him–he didn't want to hate him just because he was a Slytherin. The Blacks had been the worst sort of blood-purists and yet Sirius had been able to break free of that. Maybe it was the same for Nott. Harry still didn't find it easy. Nott's father had been in the graveyard. He'd watched Voldemort torture Harry and laughed._ _

__The dorm was empty when Harry entered. He bent into his trunk to search for a jumper._ _

__'Harry,' whispered Colin._ _

__Harry jerked in surprise and hit his head on the trunk lid. Rubbing his head, he straightened up and gave Colin a doleful look._ _

__'I'm sorry,' said Colin, zipping back and forth in agitation. 'I thought it wouldn't startle you if I whispered.'_ _

__'I think it's the sneaking up that makes the difference, not your tone of voice.' He grinned at Colin, because he felt guilty for taking so long to talk to his friends. Colin beamed back, which made Harry feel both better and worse._ _

__'So,' said Colin. 'Did you talk to Hermione? Does she know what to do? Because all in all I've had enough of being a ghost now. Being able to walk through walls was fun for a bit, but once you've done it a hundred times it starts to get boring. And he won't let me talk to anyone but you. And some of the other ghosts. They're scary, though, or sad. And I can't really talk to him, because… Well, he's not very chatty, if you know what I mean. And he glares and tells me to shut my mouth before he spells it shut a lot. Which is funny, because he couldn't, could he? Spell my mouth shut? We can't do magic anymore, can we? Which is another reason why being a ghost isn't much fun. So, did you ask her, Harry? Hermione? Is she going to help us?' Colin took a deep breath. Harry tried to answer him, but before he could get a word in Colin was off again. 'Oh, but there's something else! Myrtle showed me that I can go in the lake. All the way to the bottom! I don't need Gillyweed or anything. You used gillyweed in the–'_ _

__'Colin!' said Harry._ _

__Colin frowned. 'You want me to shut up too, don't you?'_ _

__He looked so crestfallen that Harry tried to pat his shoulder before he remembered that he couldn't. 'Just let me answer your questions, okay?'_ _

__'Yeah.' Colin was smiling again. 'I know I rabbit on a bit. Mum used to call me that, in fact. Her little rabbit. I miss her.' His eyes filled with silvery tears. 'And Dennis and Dad. I miss them so much.' He started to cry._ _

__Harry wondered if there was something about becoming a ghost that made you a bit over-emotional. He sat down on his bed, head hanging, and waited for Colin to calm down. Once he no longer heard loud, hiccoughing sobs, Harry said, 'I did talk to her and she's going to do some research. I'll let you know… Er, somehow, I'll let you know if she finds anything useful.'_ _

__'Do you think she will, Harry?' Colin hugged his tiny body. 'I never wanted to be a ghost. The ones who chose to stay behind… They're scary. I don't want to end up like that.'_ _

__'We'll figure something out,' said Harry, deciding that they would, one way or another. 'I promise.'_ _

__Colin beamed. 'I knew it! Harry Potter to the rescue.' He spun around the room, arms raised above his head._ _

__Harry rubbed his eyes. He hadn't realised how tired he was. And the cold had crept beneath his clothes._ _

__'Bye, Harry,' said Colin. He swooped up through the ceiling and was gone._ _

__Harry gathered the blankets around his shoulders, shivering. He'd lie down, just for a second, until he felt warm again. He closed his eyes. Once they were closed, he didn't feel like opening them again. He yawned and rolled onto his side. He'd just stay like that for a moment. Ron was waiting for him. Just a moment._ _

__Something cold, hard and slimy closed around his ankle. He kicked, but couldn't shake it off. He felt the same sensation around his thigh, then his arm, then everywhere. They were dragging him along the stone towards the water. He fought, trying to find somewhere to hang on, but there was nothing. Water closed over his feet and crept up his calves. He couldn't stop them. They were going to drag him under._ _

__A bearded corpse with long, matted hair pressed forward, its face inches from Harry's. Harry struggled harder, needing to get away from that face. It was going to speak and he didn’t want to hear what it would say, didn't want to hear the words he knew would come. It pressed closer, close enough that Harry could see into the rotted caves where its eyes had been. A shiny black clot of rotten flesh pulsed within its skull. No. It was dead. It was _dead_._ _

__Its jaw opened with a crack, emitting a rancid fug. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, but he still heard the voice, soft and familiar in a way that made his heart clench. 'Kill me,' it said. 'Kill me!'_ _

__Harry moaned, twisting in the grasp of the bone and rotted sinew holding him in place. They held him fast. He couldn't move. A moment later the water enveloped him, thick and frigid. It closed over his head and he couldn't pull any air into his lungs._ _

__He gasped, shivering hard and desperately trying to catch his breath. It was a dream, he'd been dreaming. His blankets had become twisted around his legs._ _

__He sat up, shoulders hunched, snatched the jumper he'd been after earlier and pulled it on. The dread and sickness of the nightmare stayed with him. His heart beat fast with bleak, creeping panic. He wanted Ginny. She'd make it better._ _

__He walked on stiff legs through the common room. Ron got up from the sofa when he saw him. 'Hey, you fell asleep. I didn't know if I should have… Harry?'_ _

__'It's fine,' said Harry, knowing he didn't look fine._ _

__Ron gave him an exasperated look. 'Come on, you–'_ _

__'I'm going to find Ginny.'_ _

__'Right. Okay.'_ _

__Some of the Slytherins had returned to the common room while he'd napped. Not Malfoy, thank Merlin. He heard Astoria say, 'Oh the poor dear, look at him,' and hurried out into the corridor as quickly as he could._ _

__Remnants of the nightmare clouded his thoughts as he strode through the tunnels leading out of the dungeon, and a wave of sorrow threatened to make his eyes tear up. It had been a while since he'd had one this bad. It was probably Malfoy's fault, all that stress and anger. He forced himself to stop thinking about Malfoy._ _

__It took him a second to remember which barrel to tap, but he got it right. He kept his head down as he wove through the Hufflepuff common room, waving vaguely at the people who greeted him. He couldn't see Ginny anywhere, so he headed towards the room where she slept. She would help him. He'd tell her his dream and she'd make him laugh and the sick feeling would go away. It would be fine. The brightness and warmth of the room had already made him feel a little better._ _

__He pushed into the dorm, saw Ginny tangled up with Dean on her bed, turned around and walked out again, breathing hard._ _

__His mind went blank. He stood still, waiting for it to clear so he'd know what to do next._ _

__A moment later Ginny burst out. 'Harry!' Her hair was mussed and her face flushed._ _

__'Sorry,' he said. A wave of irritation washed over him. 'You should probably lock the door or something.'_ _

__She lifted her chin. 'We were only snogging.'_ _

__He glanced at her and shifted on his feet._ _

__'You had a dream, didn't you?' She touched his arm._ _

__'It's fine,' he said, then tried to change the subject. 'So, boys can go in the girls' dorms in Hufflepuff? How is that fair?'_ _

__'I don't know, Harry. Do you want to go for a walk and tell me about your nightmare?'_ _

__Dean appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed. He looked nervously between Harry and Ginny._ _

__'No,' said Harry, loudly. 'No, you get back to… I'm sorry I interrupted you.' He backed away, not quite managing to smile. He turned and half-ran towards the door. She didn't call him back._ _

__***_ _

__His mind stayed empty but for an unspecific sense of panic and loneliness as he made his way back to the Slytherin common room. Bits of the dream kept flashing through his mind, but it wasn't as intense as it had been before. As he neared the entrance to Slytherin, he paused and leant back against the wall. The cold of the stone seeped through his jumper and coated his skin. He took several deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm down, trying to get back to normal. Maybe that was the problem. Normal wasn't calm, normal was a state of continuous underlying unease._ _

__He straightened up when the door opened, and then froze._ _

__Malfoy did the same._ _

__Harry couldn't name what passed between them as they stared at each other. A rush of adrenaline sent his heart thumping. He looked at the door to the common room, thinking he could push Malfoy out of the way and flee to safety without it looking like he was doing so._ _

__As if he could read Harry's train of thought, Malfoy pushed the door closed behind him. He peered past Harry, checking the corridor. Harry followed his gaze, hoping, but no. They were completely alone._ _

__Malfoy got a determined look and moved towards Harry._ _

__Harry shrunk back against the wall. 'Stay away. I told you to stay away.'_ _

__'Make me,' said Malfoy, and gave Harry a look that sent heat rushing across his skin._ _

__'I'll hit you,' said Harry. 'I'll break your fucking nose like you broke mine.'_ _

__Malfoy gave a mean little laugh, then snake-like he struck out and grabbed Harry's collar. He twisted the material in his fist, and tugged. Harry stumbled forwards and something went soft and needy inside him. He hated it. He didn't do anything to stop it._ _

__Malfoy's eyes glittered. 'Come on, Potter.' He dragged Harry to the other side of the corridor and kicked open a door Harry had never noticed before. He yanked Harry inside and closed them in together in the dark._ _

__'Lumos.' The cupboard filled with light, centring on Malfoy's face. He pressed his wand against the wall, whispered a spell, and it stuck there, filling the cupboard with a soft glow._ _

__Irritably, Harry wrenched himself free. Malfoy was looking at him like… Harry had seen Ron look at steak and kidney pie like that. And he didn't understand what it did to him. That hungry gaze. It made him want to hide. It made him want to strike out. It made him dizzy and breathless._ _

__There was nowhere he could hide. He didn't know what to do about the breathless feeling. So he tried to hit Malfoy–a weak, half-hearted punch. Malfoy intercepted it by grabbing his wrist, then forced his arm against the wall above his head. He pressed in close, his breath warm on Harry face._ _

__If Harry struggled, he'd rub against Malfoy. It would just happen. He twisted his hips–just a little, to see what it would be like–and Malfoy grabbed his other wrist and pinned it above his head as well._ _

__Malfoy wasn't much taller than Harry, but he was strong. Harry would have to really struggle to get free. 'Get off me,' he said, voice shaky._ _

__'You don’t want me to,' said Malfoy._ _

__'Don't tell me what I want. Get off me. I want you to get off me.'_ _

__'Is that part of it?' asked Malfoy, eating Harry's face with his eyes. 'Pretending I'm forcing you?'_ _

__'Part of what?' There. He'd got some bite back in his voice._ _

__'This.' Malfoy slid his hand down Harry's arm, down his chest, his stomach, and then grabbed where Harry was hot and hard._ _

__Harry cried out, and then he did struggle, bucking and shoving against Malfoy, trying to pull himself free._ _

__Malfoy forced him still again by pressing him tight against the wall. 'Merlin,' he said, breathless. 'Fuck, Potter. You're…' He released Harry's wrists and starting fumbling with Harry's trousers. 'Let me touch you.'_ _

__Arms finally free, Harry shoved him away. Malfoy tripped backwards, knocking over a stack of pails. An old broom clattered to the floor._ _

__'Imbecile,' Malfoy snapped._ _

__Harry looked at the closed door of the cupboard. He flexed his fingers. He didn't otherwise move._ _

__'What are you going to do?' Malfoy took a step back towards him. 'Run? Or not?'_ _

__Harry glared, trying to incinerate Malfoy with the force of his gaze. That would solve all his problems. It didn't work. He wanted Malfoy's body against his again._ _

__'Run or stay.' Malfoy lifted his hands. 'Go if you like. I'm not stopping you.'_ _

__Harry didn't think he could walk at the moment, much less run. He ground his teeth._ _

__'So.' Malfoy's voice cracked. 'You're staying?'_ _

__Without meeting his eyes, Harry nodded. Once._ _

__Malfoy lit up, bright as his Lumos charm. 'Good.'_ _

__With no idea what was coming next, Harry lifted his chin and met his gaze._ _

__Malfoy made a gleeful sound, then flung Harry back against the wall hard enough to make his head snap._ _

__'Oi!' It wasn't too late for Harry to leave, but then Malfoy was unbuckling Harry's belt, and undoing his fly, just like that, and all he could do was watch like a rabbit in headlights._ _

__No one else had ever touched him there. While everyone around Harry started pairing off–and he knew Ron and Hermione were doing all sorts of things, he just knew it, even if Ron didn't tell him about it, thank Merlin–Harry had started to wonder if it would ever happen for him. If he was doomed to remain some kind of pure, untouched martyr child. But now, Malfoy was wrapping his fingers around his cock, and that was wrong and so dirty, and he was ridiculously relieved that he wouldn't die a complete virgin._ _

__He was allowed this. Sex. This normal, human thing. He was allowed, even if it was Draco Malfoy doing it to him._ _

__Malfoy had pale, bony fingers. Harry's cock slid red and shiny within them. He bit down hard on his lip and tried not to sob with pleasure as Malfoy began fisting him, up and down. Malfoy grabbed Harry's waist with his free hand, and pressed tight against him. Harry closed his eyes._ _

__'You like that, Potter?' That cut-glass accent, whispering filthy things into his ear, high and breathless. 'My hand on your cock? You like it?' Malfoy ground against Harry's hip, slow, rhythmic thrusts._ _

__Harry kept his jaw clenched, trying not to make any noise. Fuck, it felt so good. And Malfoy had started making whimpering noises as he moved and they drove Harry crazy. Malfoy's head fell against his shoulder, giving Harry a face full of soft, shampoo-scented hair. He stopped fighting and let himself feel, his hips jerking into Malfoy's fist. He couldn't help it. He let out a helpless moan. Malfoy turned his head and Harry thought he was trying to nuzzle his neck, but then Malfoy bit him. He dug his teeth right into Harry's skin, pumping urgently against Harry's hip, threatening to knock them both over. Harry braced himself against the wall._ _

__Malfoy groaned and started shaking. His grip on Harry tightened to the point of agony and the pain shoved Harry over the edge, making him shout and come. He gave himself up to it, swirling down, like being sucked into the icy cold lake in his dream._ _

__He was still held fast in Malfoy's arms when he resurfaced. Malfoy panted against his neck, his breath hitching as he inhaled. His hips had stopped moving. 'Okay,' Harry said, squirming free. 'You've got what you wanted.'_ _

__'What _I_ wanted?' Malfoy scoffed, then nipped Harry's neck one last time before letting him go. _ _

__Harry backed up against the opposite wall and rubbed at the spot where Malfoy had bitten him. Keeping his eyes down, he drew his wand, Vanished the mess on his clothes and stomach, then fastened his trousers. 'You're going to tell everyone, aren't you?'_ _

__Malfoy looked up from cleaning himself, radiating with self-satisfaction. 'Why shouldn't I?' He watched Harry carefully._ _

__Now that his sweat had cooled, Harry felt bad in a way he couldn't identify. Shame. That was it. He felt ashamed, like he'd done something self-indulgent and wrong. The desire to hit Malfoy was gone, but the sense of loathing beat as powerful as ever. 'Because if you do, I'll never let you touch me again.'_ _

__Malfoy blinked. Then he grinned. Which was wrong, Harry hadn't meant to please, him, why… Oh. 'No,' he said. 'It's not going to happen again. That was it. You wanted to deal with the, with the tension? It's dealt with.'_ _

__'Right,' said Malfoy. 'Sure it is.'_ _

__'I mean it,' said Harry._ _

__Malfoy grinned even wider._ _

__Scowling, Harry yanked the door open and left._ _

__'See you around, Potter,' Malfoy called after him._ _

__Harry slammed shut the door._ _

__***_ _

__'You seem distracted today,' said Meijer. 'I hope nothing has caused trouble for you.'_ _

__'I'm fine,' said Harry._ _

__Clouds blocked the sun, turning the air cool and muggy grey. Mist clouded the forest. It could have been autumn. Frustrated and irritable, Harry tried to concentrate on what Meijer was saying._ _

__'We will separate again,' said Meijer. 'But if you run into trouble, this time you will… You can make a Patronus, yes? I have heard so.'_ _

__'Er… Yeah.'_ _

__'Wonderful. Do not hesitate to use it, Harry.'_ _

__As Meijer disappeared through the trees, Harry let himself wonder what it meant to feel such warmth and longing for someone he barely knew. Sometimes he'd think about Meijer and get sick with fear that something would happen to him. That he'd get hurt on a mission and never come back. The thought of it made him cold and shaky._ _

__He cast a spell to check for traces of magic. The Forest was saturated with magic, of course, but certain spells could pick up wand magic in particular. He thought, not for the first time, how much easier the previous year would have been if he'd known half of the things Meijer was teaching him now. Then he pushed that thought away, because it was pointless. That year was over. He still had to remind himself of this from time to time. Voldemort was gone. It was like feeling the soft, bright lick of the sun on his skin after having been trapped beneath storm clouds for as long as he could remember._ _

__He cast the spell again. ' _Vestigium_.' A cloud of colourless vapour poured out of his wand and spread through the air. Harry watched it, checking for any change in colour or texture. There, off in the distance. A soft glimmer. He'd have missed it if he hadn't been looking so carefully. He pushed between two trees. On the other side, he cast the spell again and the vapour erupted into a glittering golden haze. Someone had cast magic here. A lot, and recently. _ _

__At first he didn't see anything else. Then he caught a whiff of something smoky. Squinting, he moved towards the far end of the clearing where the vapour had the brightest glow. Sure enough, he found an area where the air wavered and shifted. Something was under a Disillusionment Charm._ _

__' _Finite_.' _ _

__The charm fluttered away and Harry was confused. He'd expected to see something Meijer had left for him. Or Meijer himself. Instead, he saw what looked like the remains of a campfire: a circle of stones surrounding charred branches. And there, just beyond, was a sleeping bag. Someone had been camping here._ _

__Harry paused. While curiosity tempted him to immediately explore the campsite, he knew that he should wait for Meijer. There'd be procedures to follow. He didn’t want to disturb any evidence. And he'd learn, he reminded himself. Meijer would teach him how to do things properly. The warm feeling spread through his chest again. He clung to it, using it to force out the lingering remains of what had happened with Malfoy the day before._ _

__He closed his eyes and thought back. He was in Gryffindor Tower with Ron and Hermione, the three of them blissfully unaware that its damage made it unsafe. The Elves had delivered a tray piled high with a startling variety of sandwiches, crisps, pumpkin juice and fruit. They sat cross-legged on a bed, stuffing their faces. And it was over. It was all over. He was bruised, his heart ached for those who'd died in the Battle, and he was slap-happy with exhaustion, but the people he loved most in the world were at his sides. Voldemort was gone and all three of them were _alive_ and truly free for the first time in years._ _

__' _Expecto Patronum!_ ' The stag leapt from his wand and disappeared between the trees. _ _

__Harry didn't have to wait more than a couple seconds before there was a crack and Meijer appeared before him. He spun around, holding Harry behind him protectively, and scanned the area. 'There is a problem?'_ _

__'No. No…' Harry's voice caught in his throat. 'I've just…' He gestured towards the campsite. 'I found something. I haven't touched it.'_ _

__Meijer's muscles lost their tension. 'Good. Well done.' He clapped Harry on the shoulder. 'Phew, I thought you were being attacked again.'_ _

__Harry sighed and kicked at the dirt. 'No.' When he glanced up, he saw that Meijer was biting back a smile. Harry tried not to scowl. 'I'm not helpless, you know. I can look after myself.'_ _

__'I know this, Harry. Believe me. But when we are on rounds, you are my responsibility.'_ _

__Meijer demonstrated spells to examine the campsite. One spell told them that it had been four hours since the Disillusionment Charm had been cast. Another spell shivered over the sleeping bag, highlighting anything that had been part of a human body. Meijer collected three strands of hair and sealed them in a vial. It made Harry think of the crime shows Petunia used to watch on TV._ _

__'The hair will tell you who it is?' he asked._ _

__Meijer gave Harry a speculative look. 'Hmm. It's more advanced magic and there are procedures I must go through first.'_ _

__'I won't tell anyone,' said Harry._ _

__Meijer grinned. 'Given the circumstances, I think it's right that I should cast the spell here in the field. We're on the grounds of a school, after all, and if the hair belongs to someone who could be a threat, we need to know right away. Yes?'_ _

__'Yes.' Harry nodded._ _

__'All right.'_ _

__Harry watched, fascinated, as Meijer removed one of the hairs from the vial and made it float in the air in front of them. ' _Corpus Imago_.' The hair swelled and expanded into a thick colourless cloud. Meijer moved his wand in a circular pattern, stirring the air, his brow creased in concentration. _ _

__Harry sniffed, but the cloud had no odour. It continued to grow, slowly taking on a human form. It was like watching a person shaped glass fill up with smoke._ _

__'It's related to the magic used in Polyjuice Potion,' said Meijer._ _

__The cloud continued to take shape: arms grew fingers, hair sprouted from a head. A nose and eyes. A long, twisted face. Harry went cold and hot at the same time. 'Dolohov,' he said. 'That's Anton Dolohov.'_ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to magpiefngrl and Abradystrix for betaing. xxxx
> 
> Sorry I took ages to update. This chapter was originally going to be a lot longer, but I decided it was long enough. Which means that the next chapter is already half written and will be posted sooner, yay.
> 
> FYI: My fancast for Auror Meijer is Armie Hammer. That's what he looks like. Exactly like that.

Chapter 4

Delicate clouds in a sunlit sky peppered the ceiling, making the Great Hall feel bright and airy but contradicting the mood of those sitting below it. The crowd remained hushed as McGonagall spoke. Harry sat gripping the edge of the bench and trying to stay still. His body thrummed with adrenaline. He met Ron's eyes across the table. Ron gave him a little nod.

'You will return to the castle before dark and remain there until morning,' said McGonagall. 'When you leave the castle, you will do so with a partner. Do not wander the grounds on your own. If you see anything suspicious, you will report it to one of the Aurors. You are under no circumstances to approach or interact with Dolohov or any unfamiliar adults yourselves.' She held up her hand. 'And yes, many of you are of age, but that doesn't detract from the fact that while you are at Hogwarts you are my responsibility.'

Harry had the distinct impression she was looking directly at him. He frowned.

McGonagall continued. 'If you feel the urge to behave in a foolhardy fashion, restrain yourselves. The Aurors will be working overtime to keep you safe. Do not waste their efforts.'

Hannah had her head buried against Neville's shoulder. He stroked her head, whispering to her. Lavender scowled, bright and angry. Susan Bones held her face in her hands. Seeing this made Harry ache. They shouldn't have to worry about Death Eaters, not any longer. They should be able to relax. To feel safe. There was whispering at the Slytherin end of the table, but he stopped himself from looking.

Meijer stood at the end of a line of Aurors, chest out, hands clasped behind his back. Seeing him there, looking strong, fierce and professional, gave Harry a rush of pride. Dolohov would be mental to take him on. 'That's Meijer,' he whispered to Ron. 'That's him.' He pointed. _He's mine_.

'Well,' said Hermione, her cheeks a little pink.

'Well, what?' asked Ron.

'Nothing.' She smiled at him. He narrowed his eyes.

'It's fine,' said Harry. 'I'll tell him we want to help. McGonagall doesn't mean us, she knows we can handle ourselves.'

'She certainly does mean you, Harry,' said Hermione. 'In fact, she means you specifically. And you,' she said to Ron, who crossed his arms. She nodded towards the head table.

There was no question that McGonagall was looking straight at Harry. He shrunk down a bit, although part of him was tempted to give her a cheeky wave. How could she imagine that he'd sit there and do nothing while there was a Death Eater on the grounds? Possibly trying to get into the castle? No. Harry was going to help find him. He wasn't a school kid anymore, not technically and not mentally either.

As everyone got up and moved off to their various tasks, Harry ran to catch Meijer. He fell into step beside him as he walked through the entry hall.

There was a line between Meijer's eyebrows. 'When you find nothing for a time you tell yourself you are bored and you want something to happen,' he said. 'But when it does, it is not always a good thing.'

Harry shivered, jumpy with the familiar buzz of fear and adrenaline. 'I want to be part of the search.'

'I am sure you do,' said Meijer. 'But I think this is best left–'

'I'm of age,' said Harry. 'And I've fought dark wizards before.'

'Harry,' said Meijer, his voice strained. 'Why do you think Dolohov is here at Hogwarts?'

Harry didn't answer.

'Do you think perhaps he's looking for–'

'Not everything is about me,' said Harry. It was all too familiar. 'Why would he be looking for me? It's not as if Voldemort will come back to life if he does me in.'

With a laugh, Meijer squeezed Harry's shoulder. The feel of his fingers was distracting. Reflexively, he met Meijer's eyes. 'Don't treat me like a kid,' he said.

'Harry…' said Meijer, worry flickering across his face.

'I'm not a kid.' He held Meijer's gaze, though it made him crackle with anxiety.

Meijer licked his lips, then took a step back. 'You… You are still very young.' There was a note of gentleness in his expression that made Harry's heart sink. 'And you aren't properly trained.'

'You've taught me loads. It… It will be good for me. A learning experience.'

Shaking his head, Meijer smiled. 'You are determined. But I'm sorry. This is for the Aurors. And soon, you will also be an Auror. Not yet, though. Not this time, Harry.'

'We can search for him in the Forest on our rounds today. We can at least do that.'

'Potter.'

Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall coming towards him with a swift, determined stride. He took a step backwards.

'The Aurors will be engaged in official duties today, so you won't be shadowing Auror Meijer.'

Gritting his teeth, Harry made an effort not to stamp his foot in frustration. He looked back. Meijer was moving away through the Entrance Hall. 'But–'

' _Thus_ ,' McGonagall cut him off, 'you will come with me instead.' She smiled. It was a smile as powerful as an Imperius Curse, only harder to resist.

Harry swore internally and gave up. Then he noticed Malfoy hovering behind her and he swore out loud.

McGonagall put her hand to her forehead and sighed. 'Please watch your language, Potter.'

'Sorry.' Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. Malfoy bounced on his feet, but looked away and went still when he saw Harry noticing. Harry's skin prickled. 'I'm… Am I…' He gave McGonagall a pleading expression. 'Is he coming too?'

'Yes. Consider it a belated lesson in interhouse unity. You'll be assisting Mr Malfoy with his work on the sixth floor.'

Harry bit his lip. He hadn't so much been avoiding Malfoy, as he'd been freezing him out whenever they were in the same vicinity. An automatic reaction. Harry'd been stretched out on the sofa in the common room the previous evening, reading and scratching Astoria's cat behind the ears. Malfoy came in and Harry went rigid with panic. He didn't know what to do. How he was supposed to behave after… That. He stared fixedly down at the pages in his lap. Malfoy was probably staring at him. He was probably giving Harry one of those heated looks. He clenched his jaw, refusing to look over and check.

Malfoy crossed the room towards the fire. He started chatting. That posh, snotty voice. Harry remembered how Malfoy's breath puffed against his neck as he'd whispered. _My hand on your cock._ Harry scrunched his face up. He shifted his legs, trying to put the image out of his mind. He pressed the book tighter against his lap. Fucking Malfoy. And that phrase–the image it set loose in his mind–did absolutely nothing to help.

The cat began kneading his shin, pricking his skin with her sharp claws in a rhythm. He let her. The pain was nicely distracting. Malfoy said something Harry didn't hear clearly and the rest of the group burst out laughing. Was Malfoy talking about him? The cat yawned, showing her teeth, then curled up against the opposite armrest. Harry swivelled onto his stomach to look and Malfoy stopped talking mid-sentence as their eyes met. Harry expected Malfoy to smirk or smoulder at him, but he didn't. He blinked, looking unsure. Then his mouth twitched as if he were about to smile. He didn’t. Instead he glared. 'Mind your own business, Potter.'

'Fuck off, Malfoy.' Harry turned his back on him. There. That was good. That was normal. Things hadn't changed, they were the same as always. Everything was fine and normal and good.

That morning during breakfast he'd not even glanced down to the Slytherin side of the table. He didn't even look. He couldn't help hearing Malfoy curse when McGonagall announced that Dolohov might be on the Hogwarts grounds, but it wasn't because he'd been paying him any attention. Malfoy just cursed loudly.

Harry continued to beg McGonagall with his eyes. She didn't appear to be moved. 'Could I not go to the library to help Hermione?'

'Potter, you are no longer my student. You are a volunteer and may go where you please.' She raised her voice a decibel. 'As long as you aren't interfering with the Aurors' business.' In her normal voice, she continued. 'Charmwork is a useful skill for an Auror, however, and a bit of practice won't do you any harm. And I believe Mr Malfoy could use the help as most of the other volunteers are occupied elsewhere and progress has been slow.'

With an unctuous smile, Malfoy said, 'It's important to me to know I'm helping where it's most needed.'

Harry snorted. Malfoy bristled and held up two fingers behind McGonagall's back. Harry mouthed, 'Plonker,' at him. When he turned back to McGonagall she looked exasperated and he realised that she'd seen it.

'Have I made a mistake?' she asked. 'I was assuming that I could depend on you two to behave like adults.'

Harry dropped his eyes. It was one thing to allow Malfoy to turn him back into a twelve-year-old, another to do it in front of Professor McGonagall. The idea that she might think less of him made him uncomfortable. 'It's fine,' he said. 'I'll help Malfoy with the charmwork.'

McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

'And I won't call him names.'

She remained silent.

'And will behave like an adult.'

'And I'll do my best to set a good example for him,' said Malfoy, with the same ingratiating smile.

McGonagall pursed her lips as if she were stopping herself from saying something, but nodded. 'Very good. I'll stop by to check how the two of you are getting on before lunch.' She strode away and disappeared into the staff room.

Harry ground his teeth. He was going to have to spend the whole afternoon with Malfoy. _Alone_ with Malfoy. He peeked at him. Malfoy had his hands behind his back. He gazed towards the ceiling, his face the picture of innocence. The arch of his neck exposed his smooth, pale throat. For a second–just a second–Harry let himself remember the warmth of Malfoy's body and the heady scent of his skin. As if he could tell what Harry was thinking–and, Merlin, it was annoying how he kept doing that–the corner of Malfoy's mouth turned up. Harry couldn't decide if he wanted to punch him or… not. Regardless, they'd be lucky if they made it to dinner without laying hands on each other.

* * *

Here. They were working together, alone, _here_. Of all places. Scratching the back of his neck, Harry looked around the sixth floor bathroom. Aside from the mirrors, all but one of which were shattered, the place looked brand new. The floor tiles shone clean and white. The porcelain of the sinks gleamed, the taps sparkled. Even the toilets looked modern. The last time he'd been here the fixtures had been grimy, the pipes creaky, and the ancient floor splattered with Malfoy's blood.

'They've, er, cleaned it up a bit,' he said, wondering what was going through Malfoy's head. What was it like for him, being in this room? Did he get the same sick, cold feeling in his gut that Harry got when he was in the Forest?

Malfoy didn’t seem perturbed. Maybe he was used to it by now. He behaved as normal, striding around like he owned everything in sight. 'There was a fight here during the battle,' he said. 'A nasty one. Most of it was blown to bits. The builders replaced the sinks and toilets and retiled the walls and floor. But there was complicated magic woven into mirrors. I've been working to replace it.'

'Draco Malfoy, king of toilets,' muttered Harry.

'I'm working on the _mirrors_. And it's better than traipsing through the woods all day, mooning over your big, handsome Auror.'

'He is handsome, isn't he,' said Harry, raising his voice.

Malfoy twitched. 'If you like them thick and muscly, I suppose. But you don’t mind 'thick' do you? Like is drawn to like, I've been told.'

'Who told you that? Your father? Do you have any thoughts he didn't shove inside your he–' Malfoy's body went taut and still when he was angry, and his eyes shone silver. Harry closed his mouth. It was probably best not to mention his father if Harry was going to live up to his promise to McGonagall. 'Never mind.' He kicked at the floor, testing its grip on the soles of his trainers.

Malfoy paced back and forth for a moment, frowning, his robes swishing around his ankles. They were alone and Harry had thought Malfoy might try to grab him again. He'd been braced for it, and was determined not to let him. He'd given in once and that was already too much. If Malfoy tried it on, Harry would give him an unequivocal no, and if that didn't work, he'd punch him in the face. But Malfoy kept to himself. He acted like nothing had happened between them. Like he hadn't had his hand down Harry's pants and wrapped around his… Fuck. 'Look, let's just get on with it,' Harry said.

Malfoy must be waiting. He was trying to lull Harry into a false sense of security. Harry was on to him, though. Let Malfoy try something, he'd see what would happen.

After a few more seconds of glaring, Malfoy lifted his chin and said, 'Fine. I'll show you what I've been doing. It's delicate work, so pay close attention.'

Harry rolled his eyes and joined him near the mirrors above the sinks. There were four–one intact and three laced with intricate webs of cracks, reflecting the room into a thousand slices of light and colour. The repaired mirror looked strange. It wasn't cracked, but its glass rippled like water. Silvery shapes floated across its surface, seeming to bulge and retreat.

'Merlin,' said Harry. 'Must have been some fight.'

'Professor McGonagall says that they weren't damaged in the process of the fight. They… Whatever they saw led them to shatter.'

'That happens?'

'Apparently so. We need to convince them to heal. To coax their inhabitants back to the surface.'

Thinking of the mirror in the Slytherin bathroom, Harry said, 'They have inhabitants?'

'As you may have noticed, some mirrors absorb personalities. Mostly from people who spent a particularly long time looking into them. Once they die–'

'They have ghosts in them.'

Malfoy gave Harry one of his You're so stupid I don't know how you remain upright looks. 'No. Not ghosts. They're mirrors, Potter.'

'So?'

'So they're _reflections_. Salazar! It's all well and good to say that being raised by Muggles makes you no different to a pureblood wizard, but you must admit your ignorance about things magical can be staggering.' His face darkened. 'Stop giving me that look. I'm not being prejudiced, I'm stating facts.'

'No. You're being prejudiced.'

'If you listened to the actual words as I said them, then you'd see that it's true. You're the one who's prejudiced. Against me. You just assume I'm a bigot, so that's what you hear.'

'And why would that be? Why would I assume you're a bigot?'

Malfoy's lips quivered. They faced each other, both breathing hard, wand-hands twitching.

This was going in a dangerous direction. Keeping their eyes locked, Harry carefully crossed his arms. 'You reckon McGonagall was mental, thinking we could work together without killing each other?'

'She just didn’t want to leave me on my own,' said Malfoy. He hesitated, but eventually relaxed his hand. 'Expects I'll Transfigure all the toilets into whirlpools of evil if I'm not supervised.'

That made Harry laugh a little.

Blinking, Malfoy gazed at him. And Harry thought, this is it. He's going to grab me. I'll… I'll… I'll stop him. I'll hold him down so he can't.

But Malfoy didn't. Instead, he turned back to the mirrors. 'As I said, it's very delicate work. Don't fuck it up, I've been working hard at it.'

'I got an E in Charms,' said Harry.

Malfoy looked sceptical. 'Really?'

Harry gave him a bright smile. 'Don't really give a fuck if you believe me or not.'

Malfoy returned the smile, looking a bit mental. 'Don't really give a newt one way or the other.' His face went back to normal. 'As I said, the idea is to coax the inhabitants back to the surface. Once the mirror feels safe again, it will begin to heal. As you can see, I've made excellent progress on the first one.' He demonstrated the incantation and a rather complicated wand movement. The partially repaired mirror rippled, as if in delight. Malfoy's fingers stood out almost white against the tawny wood of his wand. Harry shivered.

After Malfoy's trial when Harry had returned his wand, Malfoy hadn't met Harry's eyes. He'd snatched the wand away and shoved it in his pocket without a word of thanks. His hand shook as he did it. Bruise coloured shadows darkened the skin below his shell-shocked eyes. Harry hadn't held his rudeness against him.

'Potter!'

Swallowing, Harry pulled himself back to the present. Malfoy kept pushing him off-centre and it was driving him mental. 'Show me the–' He waved his hand in a figure-eight.

With a (in Harry's opinion) dramatic sigh, Malfoy repeated the Charm. Harry faced the second mirror and imitated him. The cracked pieces trembled and several fused together with a tingling sound, like tiny bells ringing. He smiled.

Malfoy looked wrong-footed. 'Good enough for a first try, I suppose.'

'So glad you approve,' said Harry, eyebrow raised. He cast the spell again. There was something satisfying about watching the broken pieces mend. He was about to say so when he noticed that Malfoy was unbuttoning his robes. The fabric parted, starting at his throat. Harry jerked his attention back to his mirror, and cast. The mirror whined and fresh cracks appeared.

He knew without checking that Malfoy was smirking. Fabric rustled. Most of the kids wore casual clothes, but Malfoy always wore robes. Today's were rust-coloured with gold brocade at cuffs and hem. Unable to ignore his curiosity as to what Malfoy wore beneath them, Harry peeked. Simple black trousers and a white button down shirt. Malfoy shook the robes, then hung them carefully on a hook on the wall. Slim hips. Long legs. Pointy elbows.

What was Malfoy playing at? He'd seemed so keen to have Harry before. Maybe… The shameful feeling returned. Maybe he hadn't liked what they'd done. Maybe Harry hadn't behaved properly. No one had ever told him how to act in that situation. But Malfoy had seemed to like it at the time. He remembered the sound of Malfoy's groan as he'd come, the way his body had trembled against Harry's.

He turned back to the mirror, trying to ignore the growing ache of want and his accelerating pulse. He wished he hadn't chosen the mirror right next to Malfoy's. He could have picked the far one, stood a yard away from him. Far away enough that he wouldn't keep getting whiffs of his shampoo and memories of his soft hair tickling his jaw.

He tried to concentrate on the work. The wand movement was tricky and absorbed enough of his attention that after a few tries he relaxed and started to get it right again. The sharp edges of the broken pieces began to melt together. Malfoy cast, then Harry cast, and the room shimmered with the soft sound of bells. It gave him goosebumps and a warm, relaxing tingle in his scalp. He closed his eyes, enjoying it. Then Malfoy skipped a beat and ruined it.

'What?' Harry asked.

'Nothing,' said Malfoy, staring fixedly at the end of his wand. 'What do you mean?'

Harry shook his head. After a moment or two they fell back into rhythm. By the time a third of his mirror had fused, his arm ached a bit. He paused and pocketed his wand, before rubbing his bicep and then his wrist.

Malfoy seemed to take that as a cue to take a break himself. With a hum of pleasure, he arched his back and reached towards the ceiling. A shudder ran through his body as he stretched.

Why hadn't he tried anything yet? What had Harry done wrong? He reminded himself that he was dead set on rejecting Malfoy. His inaction was good, it saved Harry the trouble. He shifted his legs, hot and uncomfortable. Malfoy was a horrible prick and he hated him. He turned back to his mirror. A multitude of fractured Harrys glittered in the broken pieces. He growled the incantation and waved his wand. The mirror made a sound like a raspberry.

'For the…' said Malfoy. 'What are you doing, Potter? Your wand movement. It's… We'll you're doing it all wrong.'

'I was doing just fine until... I'm doing fine.'

Malfoy moved closer. Harry hunched his shoulders. 'I'll show you again.' Malfoy took hold of Harry's wrist. 'You're too stiff. Here. Bend your elbow.' Harry hunched harder. 'You can't cast like that, all tied up in a knot. Relax your shoulders.' Malfoy's cool fingers whispered over the back of Harry's neck. He squeezed. It rushed over Harry like a heat spell. He closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. Malfoy's fingers tightened. Harry let out a short, soft whimper. When he finally looked, Malfoy was gazing at him wide-eyed with a little smile. He opened his mouth, but Harry didn’t want to hear what he was going to say. He grabbed Malfoy by the shoulders, and walked him backwards until he was pressed against the wall.

Malfoy's eyes gleamed with triumph. Harry tightened his grip. The git had been playing with him. Winding Harry up on purpose. He would get… Malfoy would get what he'd been asking for. He took hold of Malfoy's collar, thinking how satisfying it would feel to tear the shirt open. Malfoy pressed his head back, watching Harry. He licked his lips. As they stared at each other, Harry's mind wavered under a tremor of unreality.

Those grey eyes provoked so many memories. They were _here_ , in this bathroom. Acting like none of it had happened. His knuckles brushed Malfoy's collarbone. Malfoy arched his neck further and made a soft sound.

Harry's helpless, confusing desire swirled together with images of the past. Blood blossoming through water. Malfoy could have died. What if he'd died? Harry had come so close to becoming a killer. So close. He tried to picture the days after the incident, what they might have been like if Snape hadn't come in when he did. What it would be like to live with that knowledge.

He swallowed, shaking his head, and dropped his hands. 'Did you scar?' he asked.

' _What_?'

'Snape said that you might not scar if you used dittany.' He couldn't decipher Malfoy's expression. 'Look, I just–'

In a dark voice, Malfoy said, 'If you wanted me to take my shirt off, Potter, you only had to ask.' He shrugged Harry off and slid away. 'I knew you wouldn't be able to leave it alone. Not a brilliant moment to bring up the time you tried to kill me.'

'What, you think I did it on purpose?' This shocked him. That anyone could think him capable of that. 'I wasn't trying to kill you. '

'Right.' Malfoy walked to the far side of the bathroom. 'You thought slicing someone open would result in inconvenience and mild stinging.'

'I didn't know what the spell did. I–'

'You cast a spell at me without knowing what it would do?' Malfoy sneered. 'Merlin, what an imbecile.'

Harry groaned in frustration. This was pointless. The whole thing was pointless and idiotic. He tried to keep his voice measured. 'You cast an Unforgivable. The _torture_ curse.'

Malfoy's eyes dropped. He crossed his arms.

Harry stepped towards him and waited until Malfoy looked up again. 'I never wanted you dead, Malfoy. I know… Ron and I were just kidding around. I don't regret…' He couldn't bring himself to say _saving you_. He wasn't sure why. 'Anything,' he said instead. 'Well, anything other than throwing that curse.'

Malfoy stared at him. Then he swallowed and said, 'It was a mistake. The Cruciatus. I didn't know… I didn't know what it was like.'

Harry rubbed his temples. He thought of Malfoy at sixteen, proud and eager to live up to his father's legacy as a Death Eater. He thought of Malfoy's terrified face as he held his wand on Rowle, watching him scream and writhe. 'Guess we're both imbeciles, then.'

'Look,' said Malfoy, a note of desperation in his voice. He took a breath and smoothed back his hair. When he spoke again, he sounded calm. 'Look. We don't like each other. Neither of us is under any delusions. But that doesn't matter.'

'Doesn't it?'

'Not to me. And given… I don't think you care all that much either. So listen.' He swept his hand to the side, as if making an offer. 'I think we should have an arrangement.'

'An arrangement,' said Harry, dryly. 'You make it sound so tempting.'

'Call it a game, then. It will be fun. Mutually beneficial. We'll both like it.' Malfoy's stance and tone of voice were self-consciously casual. Harry could see him vibrating beneath them. Malfoy wanted this. Badly. Which made Harry hot and breathless.

' _You'll_ like it,' he said, his voice coming from the bottom of his throat.

'So will you. ' Malfoy stepped closer. He kept his eyes on Harry's.

Harry couldn't put his finger on what it was about him. The way he stood and moved, always poised and elegant. The way that poise crumbled when he was upset. That was the worst–those cracks in Malfoy's façade. That and the brightness of his hair. His vivid, expressive eyes. The hum of anger, irritation, and helplessness in the face of Malfoy's vulnerability that energised Harry to reach out and grab.

His defences evaporated; they hadn't been all that solid in the first place. He took a final second to think, to be sure. Then he stopped thinking. It was like attempting a feint during Quidditch. He ignored the fact he was doing something stupidly dangerous and just went for it.

'Okay?' asked Malfoy, his voice a bit squeaky.

'Yeah,' said Harry.

Malfoy grinned, then turned his back for some reason. That was okay. Harry took a moment to catch his breath and collect himself. Malfoy spun to face him again. He opened and closed his hands, then strode towards Harry with intent. Harry's skin started to sing. He braced himself for whatever Malfoy was about to do.

The door creaked open. Professor McGonagall entered and stopped short when confronted by what Harry was sure were two red and guilty looking faces. She looked between them and sighed. 'Well, I don't see any broken bones or open wounds, so I'm going to assume those expression don't point towards anything I need pay mind to.'

'No,' said Harry.

'Nothing's happening,' said Malfoy.

McGonagall's brow arched. 'Good to hear.'

As she crossed the room towards the mirrors, Harry tried to refocus, stunned by the abrupt termination of momentum. Malfoy fussed with his clothing, smoothing down his shirt and plucking at the front of his trousers. 

'Potter? Have you been Petrified?' McGonagall stood in front of Harry's mirror, beckoning him.

He trudged over to her and tried to listen to what she was saying.

'You are doing very well.' She tapped her lip with her hand. 'Very well.'

'Guess I'm just naturally charming,' said Harry. He glanced at Malfoy, who now looked exasperatingly unruffled.

Malfoy snorted. 'Charming like a curse.' He shifted on his feet, eyeing McGonagall. He fidgeted some more then said, 'I've almost finished mine.'

The corner of her mouth turned up, and with a note of fondness in her voice that Harry found a bit shocking, she said, 'Yes, Mr Malfoy. You're doing very well too.'

Seeing Malfoy seek praise from McGonagall was bizarre. Seeing her give it was even stranger. Harry hoped she'd leave now, so he and Malfoy could get back to what they'd been about to be doing.

'Well. Let's go down to lunch,' she said. 'You two have earned a break, for managing not to come to blows if nothing else.'

Malfoy snorted again.

'I, er, I'll be down in a minute,' said Harry. He leant back against a sink. Malfoy hesitated, but McGonagall gave him an expectant look and he followed after her. In the doorway, he paused. He cocked his head to the side. Harry started to flip him off, but stopped himself. Malfoy grinned.

Once he was alone, Harry turned on the tap, filled the sink, and ducked his head under the water until he felt cool again.

* * *

By the time he reached the Great Hall, everyone else was already seated.

'Where've you been, mate?' asked Ron, helping himself to a Cornish pasty.

'Just cleaning up,' said Harry. He didn't mention working with Malfoy. He didn’t see how he could without giving himself away, and given he hadn't sorted his own head out yet, he knew he wouldn't be able to talk to Ron or Hermione about it. He imagined Ron's reaction and went cold. He grabbed a pasty to distract himself and stabbed it with his fork, enjoying the satisfying crunch. It smelled delicious and he channelled his frustration into gobbling it up.

Maybe he'd be able to get Malfoy alone again after lunch. He glanced down the table, but Malfoy was talking to Nott.

Across the table, Astoria and Hermione sat next to each other, deep in conversation.

'So, it's just a matter of time and proximity,' said Hermione.

'Well, yes,' said Astoria. 'Although maybe that's putting it a bit simply. The charms need decades to fully settle and it takes just as long to urge them to change.'

Hermione's brows rose. 'I'm aware, thank you. But we've got to start somewhere.' She tapped her lower lip. 'We'll just have to brave the cold and spend more time in the dungeons.'

'What's this, then?' asked Ron. 'I thought you hated the dungeon.'

'And it's not only up to the Muggleborns and half-bloods,' said Astoria, eyes wide and earnest. 'We Slytherins need to play our part too.'

'What are you on about?' said Ron. He snatched one of Hermione's courgette batons.

Hermione pushed her plate towards him and Ron grabbed her discarded crust. 'You could just take some more of your own food,' she said.

'Sweeter off your plate.'

'Anyway,' Hermione continued. 'Astoria and I are discussing the Resonatia Charm.'

'Gran has one of those in her parlour,' said Neville. 'She says it promotes interesting conversation. The more interesting the conversation, the more powerful the charm becomes.' He blinked. 'I'm not allowed in the parlour.'

'Your gran is a beast,' said Hannah.

'She's alright,' said Neville.

'Has she tried Billywig propellers?' asked Luna. 'They induce an elevated frame of mind.'

Malfoy gave nasty laugh and Harry jerked to look at him. Malfoy sat with his chin resting on his hand, unashamedly listening in to their conversation.

' _Anyway,_ ,' repeated Hermione, tapping her fingers against the tabletop in irritation. 'Resonatia Charms are embedded in the stone of each of our common rooms. There are also some in the library and even here, in the Great Hall, I believe. They induce the stones adapt to the people within them by absorbing their thoughts and emotions. Then it reflects them outward again. It creates a sense of belonging, to help students feel settled away from home. So, Hufflepuff makes you feel safe and cared for, Ravenclaw helps you think more clearly–'

'Gryffindor makes you want to do stupid, reckless things just to get attention,' said Malfoy, smirking.

'And Slytherin tries to freeze out anyone who isn't pureblooded,' countered Harry, with a glare. He thought for a moment. 'But Snape… He was a half-blood.'

'Snape was an arsehole,' said Neville.

'Snape was a hero,' said Theo, looking fierce. Everyone turned towards the Slytherin side of the table. 'We'd all be celebrating Voldemort Day once a year if it weren't for him.'

'Don't be stupid,' said Malfoy. 'Snape was a pureblood. He must have been. Father never would have–'

'He was a _wizard_ ,' said Astoria. 'Honestly, the sooner we stop using terms like half-blood and pureblood, the sooner they lose their meaning. These separations and distinctions are pointless.'

Malfoy rolled his eyes. 'She's off again.'

'Did you know,' said Astoria, giving Malfoy a superior look, 'that blood distinctions are a complete invention? Blood is blood. No one type of blood is more magical than any other.'

'She's right,' said Hermione.

With a sneer, Malfoy said, 'Well, of course you'd say that–'

'I mean factually, Malfoy,' said Hermione, raising her voice over Malfoy's. 'Are you saying you disagree with facts?'

The table had gone silent. Malfoy's eyes flickered towards Harry, then away again. 'I only meant…' Red spots bloomed in his cheeks. 'Forget it.' He hunched his shoulders and glared at the table.

A voice piped up from behind Nott, who leant back to reveal Malcolm Baddock. He was almost as small as Dennis. 'So… In order to fix the dungeons, we need to–'

'Stop being bigoted arseholes,' said Hermione.

Ron's eyes widened. He patted her hand, gazing at her in admiration.

'The magic is ancient,' said Astoria, eyes down. 'It won't be quick or easy. We Slytherins will have to concentrate very hard on being welcoming and open-minded.'

'We could all join hands in a circle and sing?' said Malfoy. 'Make each other flower crowns?'

'You're so cynical, Draco,' said Malcolm. 'We just need to try harder.'

'We need to magically transform into Hufflepuffs,' said Malfoy, his voice bitter. 'We need to change who we are.'

'I don't know about you, Draco,' said Astoria, folding her hands in her lap and raising her chin, 'but I think I'll still be me.'

Malfoy didn't have a response to that. He looked at Harry again. Harry blinked at him. The desire he'd felt earlier had curdled.

The buzz of conversation rose again as everyone started getting up.

'Come with me,' said Hermione.

The Slytherins walked by and Malfoy's voice floated over. 'This is going to be a disaster, you know. Slytherins keep to ourselves for a reason.'

'It's going to be fine, Draco,' said Astoria.

'Are you disagreeing with facts?' said Malfoy in a silly voice.

Ron moved towards him, hands in fists, but Hermione grabbed his arm and led him away. 'Ignore him, he's a child.'

'Are we going to Hufflepuff again?' asked Ron.

'No, the library.'

Ron’s face fell.

'What's it about?' asked Harry, watching Malfoy stomp away.

'You'll see,' said Hermione. 'I've found the most marvellous book.'

* * *

'I barely recognise the place,' said Ron, gazing around the library. Most of the shelves had been stacked near the walls to make room for a series of long tables in the centre of the room. On the tables were spread countless books in varying stages of disrepair. The air smelled of dust, leather oil, and the almond scent of old parchment.

'We were lucky,' said Hermione, unsmiling. 'Very few of the books were completely destroyed. Can you imagine? Throwing curses in a library, of all places! The complete disregard for magical history. So thoughtless.'

'Yeah,' said Harry, shoving his hands in his pockets. 'That's what was outrageous about the whole thing. The threat to the books.'

'Hush,' said Hermione, giving him a reproving look. 'You know what I mean.'

'Wooooo!'

A cloud of icy white swirled around Harry's head. He batted at it, then stopped when he heard laughter. Colin zipped towards the ceiling then sunk down to bob in front of Harry, his hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. 'You should see your face.'

'Do I look like someone who'd like to give a ghost a good pinching?' asked Harry.

'A bit.' Colin grinned. 'But you can't, can you?'

Ron had gone white. 'Er… Hey… Colin.'

'Hi, Ron!' Colin gave him a speculative look, then zoomed right through his chest. Ron shrieked and jumped, and Colin spun around, laughing.

'Always were an annoying twerp,' said Ron.

Colin gave him a raspberry.

With a shaky laugh, Ron said, 'Merlin, he's turned into Peeves.'

'I'm right here,' said Colin. 'Don't talk about me like I'm not here, just because I'm a ghost. It's rude.'

'Peeves and Nearly-Headless Nick rolled into one,' Ron muttered.

With a roll of his eyes, Colin flew over to Hermione. 'Show them the book! Show them, show them.'

'Of course, Colin, that's why we're here,' said Hermione.

Hermione led them towards the back. Aside from the three–well, four–of them, the library was deserted. The dusty air gave the emptiness weight, and Harry felt a renewed sense of urgency to get the school ready. To fill it once again with life and energy.

A large, leather-bound book took up most of the width of a table. Hermione gazed at it with reverence, although it looked like a perfectly normal book to Harry, at least by wizarding standards.

'It's ancient,' Hermione whispered, as if she worried that too loud a voice would frighten the book.

She pulled on a pair of white gloves, and opened it to a page marked with a tasselled cord. Calligraphic text looped across the page in a spiralled pattern. Colourful drawings of ghosts and spirits twined with the words.

'It's in Latin,' said Ron.

'Yes.'

'So, we can't read it.'

'I can read Latin. You have to, really, if you want to truly understand the complexity of spellwork.'

'Got by pretty well without it, myself,' said Ron. He scratched his head. 'When did you learn Latin?'

'I've been referencing spell names since I was a first year and that led to–'

Getting impatient, Harry said, 'What does it say?'

Hermione continued to gaze at Ron for several long moments. Ron looked at his shoes. 'Let's play chess later this afternoon. That always makes you feel better.'

With a grin, Ron said, 'I'll destroy you. Don't expect mercy just because you're my girlfriend.'

'I won't.' She went up on her toes and kissed him.

Colin hooted. 'Snogging in the library! Madam Pince would have a fit if she knew.'

'Can we get on with this please,' said Harry.

'Yes, of course,' said Hermione. 'This sort of thing has happened before. This book contains the oldest instance I could find, but there are others.' She gestured towards a pile of newer looking books at the corner of the table. 'Multiple spirits are left trapped as ghosts following an episode of unusual violence and death. In this case–' She referred to a drawing of a castle. 'An earthquake caused a cave in. Three hundred people were killed.'

'So, people get trapped when a lot of people die at once?' asked Harry. He rubbed the back of his neck.

'It's more than that. If my translation is correct, the Resonatia Charm, or one very much like it, was involved.' She closed the book, picked up another and thumbed through it. 'This happened in Japan in 1896. A tsunami wiped out an entire village populated with magical people. Many of their spirits became trapped in a Shinto shrine. And I'm sure this spell–Terikaesu–is similar to what we have here, at Hogwarts.'

'So, what happened?' asked Ron. 'Are they still there?'

'Did…' Colin had gone very still. 'Did they ever get to move on?'

'Yes,' said Hermione, giving Colin a sympathetic look. 'They did. Only I'm not sure how to… How to translate that into your situation just yet.'

'Hmm…' Colin hugged himself.

'We'll figure it out,' said Hermione. 'I promise.'

'Right. Well. Guess I'd better tell Mister Grumpy-Guts about it.' He floated off at a dejected pace and vanished through the bookshelves.

'Was he always that annoying?' asked Ron.

'Yes,' said Harry, and then felt horribly guilty. 'He died fighting, though.'

'Right.' Ron nodded, solemnly.

They left Hermione behind to continue her repair work. Harry realised that he had nowhere specific he needed to be. He could go flying with Ron. Chase the Snitch. He could find Seamus and help with the stonework. He could ask Professor McGonagall where he could be helpful. Or…He could find Malfoy. A wave of excitement shot across his skin. Then remembered how Malfoy had been at lunch and wanted to punch a wall.

'Listen,' said Ron, and Harry jumped. 'Er… What's up?'

'Nothing, you just startled me.'

'By talking?'

'Piss off, what did you want to say?'

Ron raised his eyebrows.

'Sorry. I'm just…' He thought quickly. 'It's frustrating not being able to help Colin. That's all.'

'Right,' said Ron. 'Yeah.' He shook his head. 'It's hard to imagine what it must be like, isn't it? You've died, but you haven't… Er…' He gave Harry a sheepish look.

'It was different for me,' said Harry. 'I didn't come back as the imprint of a departed soul.' He swallowed, wanting to change the subject. 'What were you going to say?'

'Yeah,' Ron looked just as relieved to move on. 'Well, we're going out tonight, yeah? To look for–' He lowered his voice to a whisper. 'To look for Dolohov.'

Thinking of Meijer, Harry hesitated. If it went wrong… Meijer would be disappointed in him. He might think less of Harry. If he and Ron caught Dolohov, however–if they captured him and brought him to justice–Meijer would be impressed. And he'd forgive Harry for disobeying. Probably.

Yes,' he said. 'Let's do it.'

* * *

They spent the next hours playing one-on-one Quidditch, until Dean joined in, then Cho and Ginny, then a Hufflepuff whose name Harry didn't remember. By dinner time they'd gathered enough players to form small teams and engineer a raucous approximation of a game. Harry left the field much cheered, his arms around Ron and Dean's shoulders as they sang Hoggy Warty Hogwarts at the tops of their lungs.

There was cottage pie and treacle tart for dinner. Afterwards, Harry showered. Evening had fallen. Only a handful of hours left until midnight, when he and Ron had arranged to sneak out onto the grounds. He looked in the mirror, fussing with his hair and wondering if Malfoy was in the common room. He patted down his hair then sighed when it sprung right back up again.

'Wipe thy ugly face, thou dissembling hell-hated pumpion!' said the mirror.

'Nice,' said Harry. 'Thanks for that.'

Dean had brought the Snitch into the dorm and he and Seamus were scrambling everywhere, trying to catch it. Neville was on his hands and knees, searching for something under his bed. He grunted as Seamus used him as a stepping stool to get closer to the ceiling.

'What the? Get off me, Seamus!'

'Stall up a mo,' said Seamus, then hooted as he snatched the Snitch in his fist. Neville oofed and collapsed to the floor. Seamus leapt off him and held the fluttering ball above his head in triumph. 'Piece of piss, that. I reckon Seeking’s the easy bit o' Quidditch.'

'Oi!' Ron threw a balled up pair of socks and they bounced off Seamus' head. 'Neville sliced up that bloody great snake, show some respect.'

'Yeah,' said Neville, sitting on his bed now and looking put out.

'It's those snake slicing muscles make him good for stepping on,' said Seamus. 'He's got a good strong back, your man.'

Laughing, Harry threw himself down on his bed.

There was the sound of someone clearing his throat. Nott's rabbity face peered around the door. The Gryffindor boys stared at him. 'Your friends are here,' Nott said.

'Our friends?' asked Ron. 'Who'd you mean?'

'Granger,' said Nott. Ron's face lit up, which Harry found amusing because Ron had seen her only a few hours earlier. 'Lovegood.' He pointed at Neville. 'Your… person.'

'Hannah?'

Nott shrugged. 'Maybe bring her a jumper or something.'

They piled out into the common room, where the girls were waiting for them. Hermione wore a puffy coat with a hat and a knitted scarf. Ron slid his arm around her waist and grinned down at her. She winked and gave him a look that made Harry decide to pay attention to Luna instead.

'It's very green, isn't it?' Luna said, gazing around the room. 'And there are lots of snakes.'

'Fifty points to Ravenclaw for acute observation skills,' called Malfoy, who was sprawled out on the sofa. Harry's sofa, the one he always used. Malfoy didn't look at him. Harry turned away to even things out.

Neville had brought Hannah a huge, woollen fisherman's jumper that swallowed her up. The sleeves hung over her hands. 'Thank you, sweetheart, but I'm okay without it.' She shrugged it off. 'It's quite cold, but not so cold that I can't muddle through.'

'Give it here,' said Seamus.

Neville rolled his eyes and threw the jumper at him. Dean, wearing only a T-shirt, hugged himself, rubbing his bare arms. Seamus pulled the jumper over both of them, so they looked like a fat, two-headed monster.

'To what do we owe the pleasure?' asked Ron.

'We're going to discuss the Resonatia Charm,' said Astoria, walking up with a tray holding steaming mugs of what smelled like hot cocoa. 'And what we can do about it.' Hermione and Hannah each took a mug.

Luna had wandered over to one of the windows. She stared out it, peering into the water. 'Can you see mermaids?' she asked.

'Sometimes,' said Astoria.

'That's just lovely.' She pulled a chair over to the window and sat down. 'I'm going to wait and see if I can spot one.'

The other girls sat around the fire in a circle. Ron sat in one of the leather chairs and Harry perched on its arm. Neville sat at Hannah's feet with his head leant against her knees. She ran her fingers through his hair.

Astoria cleared her throat. 'Thank you all for coming. I'm certain, if we work together, we can start to make a change.'

Others drifted out of their dorm rooms. Malcolm Baddock and few more of the younger Slytherins. Daphne, looking very dubious. Nott pulled up a chair and leant forwards with an intense expression. Malfoy stayed where he was.

'The question is,' said Hermione. 'How can we convince the others to spend time here? It's not exactly–'

'Too rarefied an atmosphere for the Hufflepuffs?' interrupted Malfoy.

' _Welcoming_ ,' said Hermione. 'Especially in comparison to their common room.'

Malfoy wrinkled his nose. 'I've heard everything is yellow. Don't know how they can stand it.'

'We are discussing ways to tempt people here, Draco,' said Astoria. 'They see us as, well, bullies. As exclusionary. Let's not prove them correct, yes?'

With a groan, Malfoy threw his head back against the sofa and flapped his hand at her. 'Yes, fine. I'll just shut up and stay out of it.'

'There we go,' said Ron, applauding. 'Malfoy's finally doing something useful.'

The conversation continued, and Malfoy did as he'd threatened. He stood and walked to the bookcase, where he pulled out a book. He cleared his throat and started thumbing through the pages, making much more noise than Harry thought was necessary. Then he strolled to the fire and prodded it with the poker, making it spit sparks. He clearly didn't mean for Harry to see, but Harry caught him glancing his way. He tried to hold Malfoy's gaze, but Malfoy wandered towards his dorm. He didn't entirely leave. He leant in the doorway, arms crossed, looking bored.

'–figure out a way to keep everyone warm until we're having a real effect,' said Astoria.

'Is it really necessary, though?' said Daphne. 'Are we not all happy enough in our own spaces?'

'Be nice to spend time with my girlfriend in my own common room,' said Ron, frowning.

'But it's not your common room. This is just temporary.'

'You said that blood… That there's really no difference,' said Malcolm. 'So how does it tell? How does it know who to welcome and who to freeze?'

'It doesn't distinguish between students based on blood,' said Hermione. 'There have been half-bloods in Slytherin. Not a lot, but some.'

'Snape,' said Harry.

'Yes, Snape, for example. But he was Sorted here. So, in a similar way to how the Sorting Hat knows where we belong, the stones can tell too. If you're sorted into Slytherin your blood doesn't matter. The room knows you belong so it doesn't try to freeze you out.'

The fire spit and flared. The little black cat had fallen asleep in Hermione's lap. Astoria smiled at her, generous with her pet. There was something about Astoria, Harry couldn't put his finger on it. She was… good. There was something kind deep in her core. At least he thought so. It made him happy, feeling this way about a Slytherin–lighter somehow. Hopeful.

Nott wove his fingers together, then drew them apart again. He seemed nervous, almost agitated. Again, Harry wondered what he was doing there. He still wasn't sure if he was trustworthy. 'What do you think?' Harry asked, looking at him.

Nott went still. He blinked. 'I think we've got a lot of work to do,' he said.

* * *

Something black fluttered in the folds of the canopy above Harry's bed. He stared up at it, worrying it might be a doxy, but it turned out to be a moth. An alertness buoyed by anxiety kept him wide-awake, despite midnight's approach.

Malfoy had disappeared into his dorm before the gathering broke up. Harry hadn't been able to fully dislocate him from his mind. He rolled over onto his stomach, skin prickling with both resentment and arousal. Malfoy had insinuated himself into his blood like an infection. Like a curse.

One more time. Harry had to be with him again or he wouldn't be able to relax. Just once. It had happened so fast last time, he hadn't had a chance to really enjoy it. To see what Malfoy's skin would feel like against his fingers, to memorise his smell, to see what his… He cringed under a wave of embarrassment mixed with need. …to see what his cock looked like. He could do that. Malfoy would probably let him do that. And he didn't know why the idea drove him so crazy, it was just a cock, he'd seen plenty in the boy's dorm, but this one would be Malfoy's–secret and forbidden. And he hadn't had a chance to see it in the cupboard, while Malfoy had been all over his. It wasn't fair. That was all. Harry just wanted to balance things out.

He groaned and pummelled the mattress with his fists. In an effort to clear his mind, he thought back to that afternoon and the Quidditch game. Thought of cold wind whipping through his hair, the bite of it against his cheeks. He sat up and grabbed his watch. Five more minutes. The dorm was silent, but for the sighs of the other boys as they slept. His heart started to beat faster.

What if they did it? What if they found Dolohov? He chewed on his lip. They could take him, he and Ron. Harry was sure. Mostly sure. He pushed the doubt from his mind. They could do it. They would do it.

He slid off his bed and crept over to Ron's. Before he reached it, Ron's head emerged from behind his bed-curtains. 'Ready?'

Harry nodded. They grinned at each other. A wave of affection for his friend made Harry feel braver.

They crept out of the dorm and into the common room. The torches burst into life as they entered, startling Harry. It felt as if they'd already been caught, like the room was lodging accusations. Ron put a steadying hand against his back as they exited through the heavy, stone door.

Even before they turned the corner and spotted Hermione, Harry knew they'd been rumbled. He could sense the presence of other people in the tunnels. His heart sank.

'Bloody hell, Hermione,' said Ron, glowering.

Others stepped out from the shadows: Ginny and Hannah. Parvati and Lavender. Padma. Michael Corner, Luna and Cho. It was like a midnight reunion of the DA, only Harry wasn't at all glad to see them.

'You're both idiots,' said Hermione. 'You know that, right?'

'Better than being a backstabber.' Ron hunched his shoulders. 'You'd think my girlfriend would show a bit more loyalty.'

Hermione pursed her lips. 'You think it's disloyal to stop you from creeping off alone to fight a Death Eater?'

'He's not alone,' said Harry.

'Okay,' said Hermione. 'Well, now he's even less alone.'

Harry took that in. Hermione was fully dressed, her jacket folded over her arm. No one was in their pyjamas, he realised. They were all ready to go outside. Hermione. He loved her. He tried not to smile, but couldn't stop himself.

Ron hadn't clocked it yet. 'I can't believe you–' he started.

'Shut it, Ron,' said Harry.

Ron turned to him, eyebrows raised.

'They're here to go with us, not to stop us.'

'Us as well,' said Seamus.

Harry spun around.

'Do you really think we'd let the two of you go off on your own to fight a Death Eater?' asked Dean.

'Bit insulting you didn't think to ask us along,' said Neville with a small smile.

Ron's mouth fell open. As he looked at Hermione, his anger melted away and was replaced by affection so intense it made his face seem to glow. He lunged forward and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into a huge hug.

Laughing, she struggled free. 'You're still an idiot.'

'Fine, I'm an idiot.' Ron grinned.

'So,' said Harry to Hermione. 'You arranged this?'

'Yes,' said Hermione, looking smug.

'But…' Ron asked. 'How did you know?'

'I knew since breakfast that the two of you were going to ignore McGonagall and do something reckless. It was obvious. Also, I heard you talking about it when you left the library. I have very good hearing,' said Hermione. 'Especially after I've cast an Ausculto Charm.'

Harry smiled around at the familiar faces. Warmth spread through his chest, washing away his doubts. He felt full of bright energy.

'This doesn't mean I approve,' said Hermione, looking at Ron. 'You know that, right?'

'Okay,' said Ron, still wearing a soppy grin.

Hermione turned to Harry. 'I just didn't want the two of you running off to get hurt. Or killed. And I knew I couldn't stop you.' She took a deep breath, her eyes starting to shine. 'And you both really are so very… We were lucky. The war is over and we survived.' She didn't specify Ron and him, but Harry knew that's what she meant. The three of them, specifically. 'We were so lucky,' she continued. 'And now you two are trying to threaten that for no good reason. It's not your job, Harry. It's not your quest anymore.' A tear trickled down her cheek. 'You always think it has to be you. That you have to be the one to risk your life for the rest of us. That's done! It's over.' She hugged herself, and her voice went soft and shaky. 'I had to cope with thinking I'd lost you once. I don't want to go through that again.'

'She's got a point, mate,' said Ron, his face pale.

'And you were helping him,' said Hermione. 'Encouraging him.'

He lowered his head.

The crowd stayed quiet. Harry swallowed, unable to meet anyone's eyes. 'I'm sorry,' he said. He shrugged his shoulders. 'Sorry, Hermione.'

She threw herself at him. Harry stumbled backwards, then held her. 'I'm really sorry,' he repeated.

'I forgive you,' said Hermione, stepping away and wiping her eyes. 'But if you make me go through this on a regular basis, I will use a spell to glue your fingers together.' She smiled in a way that told Harry she wasn't joking in the slightest.

Another silence fell. Luna broke it. 'We're all very glad you didn't die, Harry.'

There were murmurs of assent from the group.

'Here, here!' said Seamus.

'Brilliant job not dying!' said Neville.

'Give it till the morning,' said a sharp voice.

Malfoy. And Nott as well. They stood in the corridor behind the group. Malfoy wore his silk dressing gown over his pyjamas and his monogrammed slippers. His hair stood up one side. Nott wore an expression of cold disgust.

Enunciating each word, Malfoy continued. 'He. Will. Kill you.' Something burned in his eyes as he stared at Harry.

'Oh for fuck's sake,' said Ron. 'Leave off!'

Malfoy ignored him. 'Don't do this, Potter.'

Harry blinked. Malfoy's face went red, but he maintained his stare.

'Ignore the ferret,' said Ron. 'There are enough of us that we can't lose. Let's go.'

They left the Slytherins behind and moved off towards the Great Hall. Harry walked slowly. It had seemed like such a brilliant idea earlier that day. Like something he _had_ to do or he'd have been ashamed. Now… Now his thoughts and emotions swirled together, forming a confusing knot inside his head.

They emerged from the dungeons into the Great Hall and were immediately surrounded by Aurors.

* * *

'You coming, Harry?' asked Ron.

The other Gryffindor boys had already retreated to their dorm. Harry hesitated outside the door to the common room. The shame and embarrassment of being told off by Meijer had set his pulse off and it hadn't yet stopped racing. 'I'm… Not yet.'

Ron patted his shoulder. 'It'll be okay.' He grinned. 'We had to give it a go. Didn't we?'

'I guess.' He forced a smiled so Ron would stop trying to cheer him up.

'Next year we'll be out there ourselves. We'll catch a whole splodge of Dolohovs.'

'A splodge? Is that what a group of dark wizards is called?'

'A splodge. A lump. A stench, how about that? A stench of dark wizards?'

'Sounds about right.'

Brow creased, Ron remained at Harry's side. He rubbed his shoulder again.

Harry resisted the urge to pull away. 'I'm okay. Just need a few minutes. I'll see you in the morning.'

'Right,' said Ron. He wavered, then finally shuffled off towards the dorm, glancing at Harry one last time before he disappeared inside.

Harry thought about curling up by the fire and trying to read, but he knew he wouldn't be able to stay still. The remnants of adrenaline still crackled across his nerves. Instead, he went back out and down the corridor. With no destination in mind, he wandered through the dungeons, his mind flickering with fatigue. The late hour lent a dreamlike quality to the tunnels, his footsteps echoing against the stones. It wasn't so bad down here, really, if you ignored the cold.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to erase Meijer's reproof from his memory. _I wish you had not done this, Harry. If we work together, we need to have trust for each other._ And in the morning, there'd be McGonagall to deal with. He’d thought he'd been doing the right thing, but he'd just let everyone down.

'Hareee…'

A chill shot down his spine.

'It's the middle of the night,' said the voice. 'Why are you all on your lonesome?'

Colin. It was just Colin. Harry relaxed. 'Where are you? I can't see you.'

A wave of ice swept over the back of his neck and Colin laughed. Harry caught a glimpse of movement to his right, but then it vanished into the wall. He sighed, not in the mood for games.

'Shhhh!' said Colin. 'Bet you can't find me.'

'Who says I want to find you?'

Colin shivered out of the wall and bobbed in front of Harry, pouting. 'You're no fun.'

Too tired to do anything else, Harry just stared at him. Someone else he'd failed. He should probably just go to bed.

'I told him, Harry. About what Hermione said in the library.'

'Yeah? And what did he say to that?'

'He said… He said…' Colin swept across the corridor in a figure eight as if nervous. 'He said a lot of things. Some of the words he used were quite naughty.'

'Right,' said Harry.

'I'm still not allowed to show you where we li– Where we... are,' said Colin. 'Although,' he got a determined look on his face. 'Professor Lupin says I don't have to do what he says if I don't want to.'

Harry took a step backwards as if he'd been hit. 'What?'

Colin covered his mouth.

'Did you say Professor Lupin?' Harry whispered.

'Ooooooh… I'm going to get in trouble,' said Colin, and then he swooped away.

Harry stared at the space he'd vacated. He didn't feel sleepy anymore. Something between nausea and excitement vibrated to life in his chest and his eyes started to sting.

 _Show you where we li–_ Where they lived. Where they were. 

Lupin? Harry walked a few steps down the corridor, then turned and walked back, running his fingers through his hair. Then he started to run. It was a guess. Just a guess. But he was certain he was right. He turned left down a twisty tunnel and skid to a halt before a three-way fork at the end of it. Which way had they gone? It had been so long ago. He felt a pull to the right and chose that route.

And there it was, the entrance to the room in which Nearly-Headless Nick had held his Death Day party. Harry swallowed, trying to prepare himself for what he suspected he'd find within, but then realised he couldn't. He'd just have to go ahead and face it. With a tight sensation in his throat, he crossed the threshold.

First, there was nothing but darkness. Then came the cold–an icy wave of frigid air. He hugged himself. Pulled out his wand. ' _Lumos._ ' Soft light painted the stones the colour of bone.

 _Harry!_ _It's Harry Potter._ _Harry Potter!_

A silvery shape to his right. More than one. He swivelled, then repeated the spell to make it brighter. ' _Lumos!_ More ghosts. He moved his wand in an arc, illuminating the corners of the room one by one. The entire room was filled with ghosts. They moved in, encircling him, trying to touch him with their icy hands. Shivering so hard his teeth clicked together, Harry backed away, only to move through the ghosts who'd gathered behind him.

Panic set in. They couldn't hurt him. He knew they couldn't hurt him. And yet he wanted to run.

'Congratulations, Potter,' said a silky voice, familiar in a way that felt like biting on aluminium foil. 'You've finally found us.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love and gratitude to Abradystrix and Magpiefngrl for betaing.
> 
> I appologise for the length of time between chapters. Don't worry, though, I'm deeply invested in this story and wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't finish it. I just need to juggle real life and original writing with time spent on the fic. 
> 
> Note: I absolutely welcome honest comments, including concrit. Don't be mean, but if you have a question, suggestion, or any other worry, please feel free to say so. When people mention things that didn't entirely work for them, it helps me believe it when they tell me what they did like. (Like, I'm not saying "Please tell me what you hated about my fic!" but more, feel free to be politely honest.)

Up in Gryffindor Tower, as Tom Riddle's body had cooled on the floor of the Great Hall, it had been just the three of them–Harry, Ron and Hermione. They huddled together, giddy with shock and relief. For the first time in years, Harry allowed himself to look towards the future–to believe that he had a future.

But come morning, it had been time to begin moving the bodies and the elation faded away. The funerals started. The relatives of the dead all wanted to talk to Harry, to thank him and touch him. They needed more than that–his attention. His grace. As if because of what he'd done he had some wisdom or power to lessen their grief. Harry, who was not someone for whom emotion flowed easily, especially with those he didn't know well, did his best to give them what they needed. He’d let their loved ones die; he owed it to them.

He attended funeral after funeral. The parents, children, friends, and partners of the fallen rubbed their grief against him with tear-dampened fingers as if he were a talisman. The residue left him heavy. He repeated the same memorised words of condolence, gave them eye contact and mirrored their pain. He carried their grief on his back. If Tonks or Lupin or Fred or any of the others floated through his mind, he pushed them away. He didn’t let himself remember haunted black eyes losing their light as they gazed hungrily into his own. There wasn't time for him to feel his own grief; he needed to help everyone else with theirs. Because it was his fault.

But now... Now he was on his own, and pain crashed through him with tidal ferocity. He hugged his knees and grit his teeth. He'd sealed his bed curtains shut and cast enough spells that no one would hear anything outside them. He didn't cry often or easily, but something had broken inside him and now his emotions were gushing out like blood from a jagged gash in his heart. He felt stupid. Ridiculous and childlike. Yet he couldn't stop his eyes from stinging or his shoulders from trembling. He wanted Ginny. He wanted Molly. He didn't want to burden Ron and Hermione, to make them parent him yet again.

He dug his fingers into his shins until they ached and tried to wrench his psyche back into place.

As soon as Colin had mentioned Lupin, Harry knew they'd all be there. That's what Hermione's book said: an entire village. Everyone. And where would a crowd of ghosts who didn't want to be discovered hang out? Somewhere no one living ever went. That's why Nearly-Headless Nick had held his party in that room of the dungeons.

Lupin and Tonks. _Fred._

And, of course, Snape, who seemed to have put himself forward as their leader.

'It is possible you're minutely less dim than I'd imagined,' Snape had said. 'Although perhaps it was only your usual luck that brought you here.'

His throat too tight to speak, Harry held his hand to his chest, within which his heart pounded hard enough to leave him breathless.

'Shall I give you a moment to pull yourself together?' Snape continued.

'Leave him be, Sev,' said a feminine voice. Tonks, her hair as silvery as the rest of her, floated to Snape's side. 'The poor kid must be shocked out of his mind.'

Snape's lip curled. 'Shall we discuss once again your insistence on referring to me as 'Sev', Nymphadora? I'd imagined we'd seen the subject through, and yet–'

'Oh, drink a calming drought, _Severus_.' She floated closer to Harry and peered at his face, forehead lined with concern. 'All right, there, Harry?'

Harry nodded. He swallowed and found he was finally able to speak. 'Colin never told me… He never said that…'

'We had hoped no one would ever have to know,' said Remus, who appeared at Tonks' side. 'We hoped to figure out a way to rectify our dilemma before being discovered.'

'Only the rectifying didn't work out,' said Fred's voice. Harry jerked, startled. 'We're a pathetically un-rectified lot. Stuck like fat rats in a thin pipe.'

Heart swelling, Harry smiled at him. Fred grinned back. Then Harry noticed the silvery blood dripping from a gash running down the side of his head. The smile fell away.

'And to think, I used to be the handsome one,' said Fred, with a wink. 'Now George has me beat, and he's only got one ear. Don't tell him I said so, it'll go straight to his head.'

Finding it difficult to draw in air, Harry bent over and rested his hands on his knees.

'Merlin help us,' said Snape.

'Come now, Severus,' said Remus. 'It's only reasonable that Harry is taken aback.'

'The whole time?' said Harry. The ghosts went quiet. 'You've all been here since the Battle?' He scanned the room. There were about forty of fifty of them, he reckoned, some faces he recognised, some he didn't. They'd all died, all been killed fighting for him. He thought back to that night, as he'd done more times than he could remember, and went over the chain of choices he'd made. He tried to rearrange it, to fix it. If he'd gone to Voldemort sooner, the moment he'd been summoned. He hadn't known what would happen, of course, and they'd had the diadem to find. But it wasn’t right. They shouldn't have had to die, not when he'd survived.

Most of the ghosts crowded in small groups behind Snape and the others, whispering and staring at him. In the back corner, however, was a gap–a space in which a single ghost floated back and forth, back and forth, her long hair floating behind her. The other ghosts seemed to be avoiding her.

'Where is he?' she wailed. 'Have you seen him? I must, I must find him. My Lord needs me. I am his most loyal, his most dedicated... Where has he gone?'

Remus' face darkened. 'We must find a way to shut her up.'

'I was never able to do so while living,' said Snape. 'Bellatrix's enjoyment of the sound of her own voice is surpassed only by her late, great Lord and Master.'

'She got stuck behind too?' asked Harry. His head had filled with the flickering static of sleeplessness. Perhaps he was dreaming. The scene was so much like one of his dreams.

'My giddy aunt?' said Tonks. 'No, we think she chose to stay. She's… different.'

Bellatrix lifted her arms to the ceiling and wailed. The ghosts closest to her winced and moved further away. Harry rubbed his eyes with his fists and almost lost his balance.

'Merlin, you're about to drop,' said Tonks. She reached for him, then withdrew her arm, looking frustrated.

'Harry,' said Remus. 'Go and get some sleep.'

Harry nodded, then glanced again at Snape. He stared back at Harry, somehow even more intimidating as a ghost. There was a sharpness in his eyes that his portrait lacked. _This_ was Snape. All of him. Harry shivered.

'Do as Lupin says,' said Snape. 'We'll no doubt still be here tomorrow.'

A familiar desire to defy him rose up, but fatigue won out. Harry turned and stumbled out of the room, craving his bed and oblivion.

* * *

Once he'd returned to the bedroom, he'd had a few hours of agitated sleep. He waited until the others left for breakfast before getting up. He splashed his parchment-coloured face with water in the bathroom, hoping to make it less puffy. The mirror started to say something, but Harry interrupted it, glaring. 'I know,' said Harry. 'I look like a flibber-gibbers backside.'

The mirror sniffed, which was an odd, given it had no nose. 'Nanne a refreshing charm wonneth't fixeth.'

Harry'd seen Mrs Weasley use the charm on wilting flowers. He shrugged and cast it at his face. Moisture prickled across his cheeks and he gained a little colour. 'Thanks.'

Once in the Great Hall, he slid into a seat next to Luna, avoiding Ron and Hermione's questioning glances. He let his eyes unfocus; the murmur of conversation around him blurred into an indecipherable rumble. He reached for a piece of toast. The smell of bacon and eggs turned his stomach.

'Your Auror will forgive you, Harry,' said Luna. 'I think he understood.'

Nibbling on the corner of his toast, Harry blinked at her, wrong-footed as always by her perception.

No sooner had the dishes Vanished, then Professor McGonagall appeared, looming behind them. 'The three of you,' she said, looking at him, then Ron and Hermione in turn. 'My office now, if you please. You too, Nott.'

Surprised, Harry turned. Malfoy looked equally bemused. He whispered something to Nott. Nott scowled and shook his head, then got up from the table.

Ron and Hermione fell into step at Harry's side, but he hunched his shoulders and kept his head down, hoping they wouldn't try and make him talk. He couldn't think of how to tell them about the ghosts. It was too big. He imagined the words leaving his mouth and his eyes started to sting again. He'd do it later, once he'd slept and had the energy to stay calm.

'It won't be that bad,' said Ron. 'Come on, mate, you look like you're–'

'I'm fine!' He winced. He hadn't meant to sound so sharp. It worked though. Ron and Hermione shared one of their secret looks but didn't say anything else until they were in McGonagall's office. Meijer, Ron's Auror Jimenez, and two other Aurors were there, waiting for them. Harry kept his eyes down and sat down in one of the wooden chairs facing McGonagall's desk. Meijer came to stand behind him. Harry glanced up at him. Meijer gave him a small smile. He squeezed Harry's shoulder and Harry went liquid with relief.

He straightened his back and whispered to Ron. 'Sorry. I didn't get much sleep.' Ron gave him an affectionate knock with his shoulder.

Nott gripped the arms of his chair as if he'd otherwise float away, his jaw set, shoulders tense. The only reason Harry could see why he'd be there was to rat them further out. Harry glared, willing him to look back, but Nott kept his eyes forward. Snape's portrait pretended to doze. The large frame behind the headmistress' chair was, as usual, empty. McGonagall sat down and when Harry saw the lines of fatigue around her eyes, he went cold with shame.

'I'm sorry,' he blurted out. 'It was stupid. It was a stupid thing to do. I didn’t think it through properly. I just… We just wanted to… People are scared and upset and I thought–'

McGonagall held up a hand and Harry closed his mouth. 'While I'm confident your intentions were virtuous, Harry,' she said, 'the fact remains that you disregarded my request and attempted to do something I specifically asked you not to do. Did it not occur to you that by leading a group made up of untrained young people, barely of age, to confront a powerful dark wizard, you were putting them in serious danger?'

Harry crossed his arms. 'I didn't ask them to come with us. It was meant to be just me and Ron.' Despite his best efforts, his temper started to flare. 'And to be fair, Professor, every one of them fought in the Battle. We might not be fully trained, but we're not inexperienced.'

'It was me,' said Hermione, wringing her hands. 'I brought the others, not Harry or Ron. I didn't want them to go into the forest on their own.'

'They chose to follow us,' said Ron. 'They wanted to fight.'

'I understand that,' McGonagall said, meeting each of their eyes, one by one. 'And after some consideration, I've decided that it was unfair of me to expect you to remain idle while Hogwarts is threatened.'

Sitting up straight, Harry said, 'You mean we can–'

Once again, McGonagall raised her hand, cutting him off. 'Let me be clear. If you give me further cause to mistrust you I will ask you to leave Hogwarts altogether, no matter how good your intentions.'

'Yes,' said Harry. 'Yes, of course.'

'And that goes for the Aurors as well. You will obey them to the letter, to the smallest detail. Is that understood?'

'Completely, one-hundred percent understood,' said Harry.

'Very good. Those of you who are of age and who wish to do so may go out in a group, accompanied by the Aurors.’  
Harry couldn’t restrain his grin. McGonagall sighed, but there was warmth and a bit of amusement in her eyes. 

‘Thank you, Professor,’ said Harry.

'So, what's he doing here?' asked Ron, jerking his head at Nott.

'Would you like to explain, Mr Nott?' asked McGonagall.

Nott didn't look at them as he spoke. 'My father,' he said, voice laced with bitterness. 'He knew Dolohov quite well.' He swallowed. 'When he'd meet with father, I'd listen in. I know… quite a bit about him. I think I can be helpful.' He folded his hands in his lap, staring at his fingers.

'How do we know we can trust him?' asked Ron. 'He could be leading us into a trap.'

'Mr Weasley–' McGonagall began.

'I'll swear a blood bond,' said Nott, finally looking up, golden eyes flaring. 'That what you want? If my word isn't good enough for you, I'll swear an Unbreakable Vow.'

Ron leant back a bit, eyebrows raised. 'No, I just–'

'There will be no blood bonds or Unbreakable Vows,' said McGonagall. 'I've spoken with Mr Nott privately and he is trustworthy. Can I assume you will take my word on this, Mr Weasley?'

Harry nodded, although he still didn't feel entirely comfortable about it. Dumbledore had been right about Snape, he reminded himself. McGonagall must know something about Nott that made her certain.

Nevertheless, as they made their way back down the stairs, Harry fell into step with Nott. Nott glanced at him and sighed. 'Why?' asked Harry. 'Your dad's a Death Eater. How come… Why are you–'

'Why did I turn into a worthless blood-traitor and turn my back on my family and heritage as a pureblood?' His voice held that note of bitterness again, and there was a stiffness to his tone that made Harry wonder if he were repeating something that had been said to him. 'Around the time my wonderful, pureblood father, upstanding member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, started coming back from raids with his robes soaked in Muggle blood.'

Ron appeared at Harry's side, Hermione next to him. 'You could just be saying that.'

Nott continued. 'He made me come with him. Wanted me to _join in_. And when I wouldn't, he called me… He said I was….' His voice broke and he halted, face white. 'If I'm no longer his son, then he's no longer my father. It's just logic.' He looked at Harry. 'I testified against him in the trials. I told the Ministry what I'd seen, what he'd told me. I helped send him to Azkaban. Th-th-that's why McGonagall trusts me.' He moved his gaze to Ron. 'That good enough for you, Weasley?'

Ron swallowed, then nodded. 'Yeah. I… Yeah.'

They all spent a bit of time examining their shoes, except for Nott, who stood stiff and still, his jaw clenched.

Hermione broke the silence, her voice quiet. 'That must have been very hard for you, Theo.'

'What's right instead of what's easy,' said Nott. 'Isn't that what Dumbledore said?'

Nott met Harry's eyes, then looked away again. His frizzy hair fell over his eyes and he shook it away. As if he needed a haircut, but hadn't realised. Harry remembered hearing that his mother had died when he was a child. And now his dad was gone too. Something tightened inside him. 'Thank you,' he said. 'For offering to help.'

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'You're… I reckon you're a good bloke.'

'Awfully good of you to say so, Weasley,' Nott replied, a note of sarcasm in his voice.

'You can't blame us for being careful,' said Ron.

'I know.' Nott's shoulders slumped. 'Believe me, I know.'

They descended the stairs. Their footsteps echoed and Harry marvelled at how different the school sounded with so few people inside it. He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

'Did you get any sleep at all last night?' asked Hermione.

'A bit.' He was going to have to tell them. Ron and Hermione. About Remus and Tonks and the others. He'd have to tell Ron about Fred. And Ginny. His throat started to tighten again, imagining what his friends' response would be. Not yet. He couldn't do it yet. He needed to sit with the knowledge first, to wait until it stopped shuddering against the inside of his skull. He couldn't think of how to say it, what words to use. He yawned again, bigger this time. 'I reckon I'll go and have a nap.'

* * *

Lunch had passed by the time he awoke, fresh and clear-headed again. They weren't due to go out with the Aurors until the evening, so Harry had several hours to fill. The ghosts continued insisting their way back into his consciousness, seeping through like smoke beneath a door. He'd picture their faces and his chest would tighten, his breathing quicken. A distraction. He needed a good, powerful distraction. He put his mind through the process of considering helping Seamus with brickwork or Hermione with the library. Because.

Then he went to find Malfoy. He'd already been heading up the stairs towards the bathroom while he was doing the considering, but that didn’t mean the considering didn't count. He was completely in control of himself and his choices. By the time he reached the stairway leading to the sixth floor his heart was racing, and not from the climb.

It had happened so quickly the first time; he hadn’t had time to think. To anticipate. To worry. Gripping the handrail, he closed his eyes. Malfoy. Tall and pointy. His sneer, his white-blond hair. Long, pale fingers and a face that revealed more than he seemed to want it to. That mouth that could set Harry ablaze with a single word. Just thinking about him made flames flicker and rise, nerves mixed with hunger and resentment. It was easy to imagine doing things to Malfoy. Bending him into shapes, digging in his fingers and teeth–but picturing wasn’t the same as doing. And Harry, he wanted… More even than he wanted to avoid embarrassing himself, he wanted to impress Malfoy. Impress wasn’t the right word. He wanted to defeat him. To win.

Antsy and on the verge of irritable, he started to climb the final flight of stairs, but halted when Malfoy appeared at the top, as if Harry’s thoughts had summoned him. When he spotted Harry, he froze. They stared at each other, a question passing between them.

Malfoy shifted into a casual lean against the railing. ‘Come to practise your charmwork, Potter?’ 

Merlin, that was all it took. That sarcastic, insinuating drawl. Deciding that he didn’t have the patience for games, Harry said, ‘No, I’ve come for you.’

Malfoy’s lashes fluttered and he responded in a higher pitch than normal. ‘Have you, then?’

‘Do you need me to repeat it?’ It felt more like provoking an argument than anything else. But that made it easier. Harry knew how to fight. He knew how to fight with Malfoy, and he knew that he could win.

Wrinkling his nose, Malfoy said, ‘No, Potter, I got it the first time, you aren’t that oblique.’

‘Well?’ said Harry. ‘You haven’t bottled it, have you?’

For a few further seconds, Malfoy clung to the bannister. His expression remained haughty, but the whiteness of his knuckles let Harry know that he was nervous too. And that was an enormous relief. Harry thought of the look Ron sometimes gave Hermione before the two of them would disappear somewhere alone together. It was a sort of speaking look, an intensity of the eyes, and it made Hermione smile and turn pink. Harry gave it a go.

Malfoy’s lips parted. ‘No,’ he squeaked. Then louder and faster: ‘No, I haven’t bottled it. As if I'd be afraid of you, Mr _Expelliarmus_. More like a ragged alley cat than a lion.’ He moved down the staircase towards Harry. ‘You’ve certainly got the scars for it. Only a street cat has better hair.’ He kept talking as he descended, like he couldn’t help it. ‘How old is that shirt you’re wearing? It looks like something a house-elf would use to polish furniture.’

‘Merlin, would you shut up?’ Harry ran his fingers through his hair. Why? Why? There were dozens of people his age in the castle, why did he have to be attracted to this mouthy git? Why couldn’t one single thing in his life be nice and uncomplicated? Getting further into things would only make it worse. He should leave. Maybe shove Malfoy first or something. He should go back to the dungeon and lock himself in his room before anything else happened between them.

Malfoy and he were level now, both on the landing. His fancy robes hung unfastened, the top buttons of his shirt open, exposing the sharp angle of his collarbone, and Harry still didn’t know if he’d scarred. He wanted to tear his shirt off and see. To shove him down right there on the stairs and tear into him.

So one more time. He'd do this one more time. He backed away into a nearby classroom and Malfoy followed him, looking hypnotised. Harry flicked his wand at the door to lock it. The click echoed through unused desks. Cracked windows looked out over the Quidditch pitch. While the house-elves had kept dust from gathering, the room felt abandoned, as if it hadn't been used in years.

After another moment of uncertain staring, Malfoy said, ‘Looks like I’m not the one who-’

Harry slammed Malfoy against the wall to shut him up. Malfoy gasped and struggled, although it involved grabbing Harry's shoulders and pulling him closer, so maybe 'struggle' wasn't the right word. Each shift and squirm of Malfoy's chest and limbs against Harry's own wound him up further. He grabbed the back of Malfoy's neck to hold him still.

Mere inches of air separated their faces. Malfoy’s pink lips. Harry leant in, but then stopped, a quiver of discomfort preventing him from going through with the kiss. This was Malfoy. He couldn't _kiss_ Malfoy.

Malfoy lifted his gaze from Harry’s mouth and frowned. He blinked, then said, 'This isn't a romance, Potter.'

Harry snorted. Instead of kissing Malfoy he buried his face against his neck and ran his hands down his back. Malfoy grabbed Harry's shoulders and pressed a thigh against his hips. Without kissing it was hard to figure out where to start. Harry's head spun as he tried to decide what he wanted. Malfoy fantasies were so different than any fantasies he'd had about girls.

Malfoy pressed down on his shoulders. Harry resisted until Malfoy became aggressive about it, pushing hard, trying to get Harry to go down on his knees.

'I know what you're trying to make me do,' said Harry.

'Good,' said Malfoy. 'Do it, then.' He continued trying to force Harry to the floor.

Struggling to stay upright, Harry considered. He didn't hate the idea. In fact, thinking about doing it–what it would feel like to have Malfoy in his mouth, how Malfoy might respond–made his knees wobbly. Kneeling at Malfoy's feet, looking up at him. Harry rested his hand against the wall to steady himself. It was so strange, this contradiction. It turned him on so much when Malfoy did things that made him feel a bit bad and humiliated. And he hated that. It made him ashamed. But it still turned him on enough that he didn't resist.

'Potter…' said Malfoy, whining.

'No,' said Harry. He… He just couldn't. Malfoy would like it too much.

Malfoy's fingers tightened against his shoulders, but he stopped trying to push Harry down. Instead, he gave Harry a calculating look. Harry sighed, knowing that whatever Malfoy said was probably going to change his mind. He hated how well Malfoy could read him, especially as the workings of Malfoy's brain remained such a puzzle. He might as well just do it and save them both the trouble, it would–

'I'll go first,' said Malfoy.

Harry widened his eyes. 'Really?'

'Yes. I'll do it for you, and then you'll do it for me.'

Harry almost laughed. Because yeah, that was the way to go about it. Appealing to Harry's sense of fair play. And why did _that_ turn him on too? Being manipulated shouldn't be arousing. But when Malfoy did it, it was. Harry couldn't help it.

'Go on then,' he said.

'Make me.' Malfoy looked at Harry, challenging and impish.

Something growled inside Harry and he reached for him–then stopped. 'No,' he said. 'I'm not going to _make_ you. What do you think I am?'

Huffing in frustration, Malfoy said, 'I don't mean really make me, I mean… Salazar, you're… It's like talking to a–'

'Maybe don't insult me just now?' said Harry. Malfoy was going to ruin it. He was going to shoot his mouth off and get Harry so angry he'd have no choice but to storm away. And Harry didn’t want to storm away. He wanted Malfoy to do what he'd promised to do. 'Maybe things will go better if you don't.'

'I'll say what I like. If you want me to stop insulting you, then stop being such an ignor–'

Without thinking, Harry slapped his hand over Malfoy's mouth. Malfoy's eyes flashed with outrage. He yanked Harry's hand away, then shoved at him. 'I'll thank you not to–' Harry tried to cover his mouth again, because it had been pretty satisfying the first time, but Malfoy grabbed his wrist, and then they were wrestling. Grabbing at each other, each trying to gain the upper hand.

The thrill of it lent Harry strength. It only took a few moments to get Malfoy on the floor and then another to pin him down. Malfoy struggled beneath him, flushed and resentful, but Harry could feel, hard against his thigh, that he wasn’t as reluctant as he looked. He squeezed Malfoy's wrists and pressed down against him. Malfoy gasped and arched, which felt so good Harry drew away again to be safe. They both took a moment to catch their breath. 'You going to do what you said?' Harry asked, shocked at how rough and low his voice sounded.

'Not if you don't let go of my arms and get off me,' said Malfoy.

Harry waited a few more seconds, then let him go. He sat up and waited while Malfoy rotated his wrists and stared at the bulging groin area of Harry's jeans. He was really going to do it, Harry realised. His skin went hot all over. Malfoy looked so hungry. He shuffled over on his knees, until he was between Harry's spread legs. 'Lie down,' he said, shoving Harry's chest. Harry obeyed, his heart fluttering like a Snitch.

With shaking fingers, Malfoy started unbuttoning Harry's jeans. Each brush of his knuckles against Harry's cock felt like heaven and he didn't know how he was going to survive when Malfoy actually had his mouth on him.

Malfoy's eyes gleamed bright and feverish. He pulled down Harry's jeans and pants, exposing him. Harry breathed through another rush of arousal based on embarrassment. His cock quivered over his stomach, fat and red, and Malfoy knew that it was because of him, that he'd made Harry like that. A whimper escaped from the back of Harry's throat. Malfoy gave him a triumphant smile, then licked his lips. Please don't let me come right away, thought Harry. He felt on the verge, and Malfoy had barely touched him. Then Malfoy went down and took him in his mouth.

Pleasure, shocking in its intensity, made Harry cry out. He bit down on his lip, breathing hard, struggling to maintain control. That was… That was… _Merlin_. The wet heat, the soft slide of Malfoy's lips and tongue, the throb of delight when Malfoy sucked. And the sight of his blond head bobbing, cheeks hollowed and eyes squeezed shut. That was _Malfoy_ doing that. Draco bloody Malfoy. On reflex, Harry thrust upwards. Malfoy gagged and gave him a warning look. Harry shook his head, unable to speak. Malfoy started sucking again. Harry clawed at the floor. He clenched his jaw, quivering, and put all his energy into trying to keep still. Which was good, as it distracted him enough to stay away from the edge, and he didn't want it to end. He didn't want it ever to end. Never. Malfoy could keep sucking his cock until the end of time and that would be perfect.

But then Malfoy started doing something with his tongue that made Harry lose his mind. He yelled, helpless. For five more seconds he held on, as if for his life, but it felt too good. His cock throbbed and pulsed. Malfoy pulled off, fisting Harry frantically, and Harry came, whining through his teeth. The wet heat of it pattered against his T-shirt.

'Oh.' He sucked in air, realising that he'd been holding his breath during the last of it. 'Wow.' His heart galloped. He shivered with pleasure and warmth like swelling sunshine. Merlin, he'd never done anything to himself that had even come close.

Malfoy looked far too pleased with himself. 'No dozing, Potter, you've got work to do.'

It might have been nice to drift off, but Harry'd already had that nap and his mind felt bright and active. He stretched his arms above his head, yawned, then pulled up his pants and trousers. As he pushed himself up, the wet bits of his t-shirt clung to his skin. He found his wand and Vanished the mess.

Malfoy got to his feet and let his robes fall off his shoulders and onto the floor. So dramatic. Harry started to get up as well. 'Stay there,' said Malfoy. His mouth twitched, as if he were trying not to smile, but then he did smile, bright and mean. 'On your knees.'

Harry blinked at him.

'You can't back out now,' said Malfoy. 'We had an agreement.'

'Not going to back out,' said Harry. Malfoy stared down at him, face flushed, his eyes alight. 'You're really getting off on this, aren't you?'

'You have no idea,' said Malfoy.

'I've got some idea.' He considered teasing Malfoy. Telling him he'd changed his mind and didn't want to do it. Just to piss him off. But the thing was, Harry did want to do it. He really, really wanted to. Malfoy's erection tented the front of his black linen trousers. Harry wondered what it would look like unclothed. Merlin, he was already getting randy again.

Malfoy started undoing his trousers, which was fascinating. His long fingers worked the buttons, revealing what was beneath little by little. Cotton pants with a wet spot discolouring the cream fabric where Malfoy's cock jutted against them. Malfoy shoved down his trousers, then his pants.

Harry stared. Draco Malfoy's cock, right in front of him. It wasn't any bigger than his, he was relieved to find, but pale in comparison. And a bit curved. Harry was going to suck on that. He didn't let the frisson of anxiety show as his mouth filled with saliva. Dark-blond curly hair at the base and around Malfoy's balls. Merlin. Malfoy's _balls_. His cock. Harry was close enough to catch its musky, private scent. He reached out and slid a finger down the silky skin.

Malfoy exhaled sharply. 'Are you waiting for it to tell you what to do?'

Harry raised his eyebrows at him.

Malfoy continued, using a high-pitched voice. 'Put me in your mouth, Potter.' He waggled himself back and forth.

'Ever hear of killing the mood?' asked Harry. 'And why does your penis sound like a house-elf? What happens if you give it clothes?'

'Shut up.' Malfoy slid trembling fingers into Harry's hair, which felt weird, almost affectionate. Harry was about to shake them out, but then Malfoy tightened his fingers into fists. Everything went hazy–the sting of his hair being pulled, the feel of hard knuckles against his scalp, Malfoy's avid, hungry face. Harry took hold of Malfoy's hips to regain his balance. He took a deep breath. Then he leant in. The head slid slick against his lips. He parted them and extended his tongue–Malfoy tasted of sex and salt. Watching for Malfoy's expression, Harry closed his lips and sucked. Malfoy gasped, shuddered, and curved forwards. Harry wrapped his fingers around the shaft to give himself more control. He tried sliding up and down, as Malfoy had done. Malfoy whimpered something that didn’t sound quite like words. Grinning, Harry sucked again.

'Cover your teeth,' said Malfoy, in a strained but clearer voice.

Harry did so, resisting the temptation to bite. He couldn't get all of Malfoy's cock in his mouth, but it didn’t seem to matter. He found a rhythm and fell into it.

Malfoy's hands stayed tight in his hair. 'Fuck, Potter. Fuck, that's good. That's so good. Keep it up.' Harry paused to swallow and Malfoy's word's tumbled over each other. 'If you stop I will murder you, I swear on my mother, I'll kill you.' Harry snickered and kept going. 'Good. That's good.'

Malfoy's voice drove him crazy. And the smell of him, and the way he'd started trembling. Harry remembered that Malfoy had moved his hand along with his mouth, and he tried that out. Malfoy moaned, so Harry did it faster. He tried out the tongue thing and Malfoy went mad.

'Yes, oh do that, k-keep doing that. Potter. Like that, just like that. Oh. I'm… I'm going to… I'm…'

Harry pulled off, not sure he wanted a mouthful of Malfoy's come. The grip on his hair sharpened painfully. Malfoy gasped. Harry realised he might have made a mistake, and squeezed his eyes shut tight. Hot liquid splattered against his face. Then again. Malfoy whimpered.

Some of it dripped over Harry's lips, some down one of the lenses of his glasses. Malfoy, still panting, gazed down at him with an almost religious sense of wonder. Scowling, Harry tried to pull away and get his wand to clean himself off, but Malfoy's hands tightened in his hair, holding him in place.

Breathless, he said, 'I'm going to remember this moment for the rest of my life.' He broke into a rapturous smile, his eyes sliding over Harry's face.

Malfoy's pleasure at seeing Harry covered with his mess pissed Harry off as much as it turned him on. He jerked away, and wiped his face off on the front of his t-shirt.

'You could have done that with a wand, you know,' said Malfoy, doing himself up, lazy and satisfied.

Harry hated him.

He wondered how long it would be until they could do it again.

* * *

'Well, you were wrong,' said Hermione.

Harry stopped short in the doorway to the Slytherin common room and considered going somewhere else instead. Hermione, bundled up in a coat, hat, scarf and mittens, faced Ron, who wore a mulish expression.

'I showed up because I didn't want you running off into the forest on your own, not because I'd decided it was a good idea,' Hermione continued. 'My position hasn't changed, Ron. You should be leaving this up to the professional Aurors.'

'Professor McGonagall is behind us,' Ron responded. 'Why can't you be too? Do you think you know better than she does?'

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione said, 'You know full well that's only because she knows you'll go out anyway.'

'She realised we should be allowed to fight to protect Hogwarts,' said Ron. 'That's what she said.' He turned to Harry. 'Tell her!'

Desperately clinging to the sense of relaxation and well-being he'd carried down from the empty classroom, Harry held up his hands. 'You both know where I stand.' He kept his distance. He could still smell Malfoy on his skin and didn't want to risk them picking up on it.

'Did you not hear anything I said last night?' said Hermione, getting a bit shrill.

Harry wanted to get away, but he saw genuine fear in her eyes and stopped himself. 'We'll have the Aurors with us this time,' he said. 'Meijer is good. Really good. He won't let anything happen to us. And I promise we we'll let them take the lead. Okay? We'll be fine.'

She bit her lip. 'Nothing I say will make any difference, will it?'

Ron stood with his palms pressed against his eyes. He lowered his hands, then approached her. He slid his arms around her shoulders. She stiffened, but let him. ''Mione. If… If you really… I don’t want to make you cry.'

Harry walked to the bookcase on the other side of the room. The books all looked ancient and seemed to be about history and genealogy. He pulled one out at random, to distract himself from his friends' argument. Notable Magical Names of our Time. Sighing, he thumbed through the thick pages, until he got to the Ps. Pattinson. Pfaffle. Podmore. Potter. _The wizarding family of Potters descends from the twelfth-century wizard Linfred of Stinchcombe, a locally well-beloved and eccentric man, whose nickname, ‘the Potterer’, became corrupted in time to ‘Potter'._ Harry wasn't sure what to do with that information.

He glanced at his friends to see if they'd finished yet. They held each other, Hermione's head resting against Ron's chest. Moving towards the bedroom with great relief, Harry called to Ron. 'I'm just going to get changed.'

Once he was alone, he peeled off his t-shirt. He looked around, just to be sure he was unobserved, and then sniffed it. The scene flooded back: Malfoy's voice, his taste, the things he'd said. It had really happened. With _Malfoy_. He shook his head, then tossed the t-shirt in the laundry bin for the elves. He took a moment to feel sympathy for them–having to clean up after so many teenage boys on a daily basis. He stretched towards the ceiling, his muscles still humming with pleasure. It had been ages since he'd felt this free and relaxed.

A spike of cold pressed against his breastbone. 'How'd you get that scar?' asked Colin, pointing at the pink marbled oval left by the locket.

Drawing his arms across his chest, Harry took a step back. 'It's a long story.'

'You've got a lot of scars, haven't you?' Colin circled around him, inspecting his bare skin.

Harry yanked open his trunk, pulled out a clean shirt, and slid it on. He sat down on his bed, and Colin settled next to him. So much for free and relaxed.

'I'm sorry I didn’t tell you about the others,' said Colin, head down. 'He just told me–'

'I know,' said Harry. 'Snape didn't want you to tell anyone. It's okay, Colin, you didn't do anything wrong.'

'Bet it was a shock. Seeing everyone there.'

'You could say that.' 

Colin fiddled with a tear in his ghostly robes. 'I'm glad you know now. What did Ron and Hermione say when you told them?'

Harry cleared his throat. 'I, er, haven't told them yet.'

'Okay,' said Colin. 'It's just that Snape says that the longer we're stuck here, the harder it will be for us to move on. So, maybe you could tell them. Hermione at least. So she can help you figure out what to do.'

Harry nodded. 'You want to move on?'

'I am a little scared of what comes next. But I don't want to stay like this forever.'

'I just don't know how to tell Ron,' said Harry. 'About Fred, I mean. He was…' Harry thought back to Ron in the days after the war. He'd cycled between exaggerated jubilation, fury, and abject grief. Thank god for Hermione. It had been agony to watch and Harry hadn't had any idea how to help him. 'He's just kind of getting back to normal. If he sees Fred, I'm scared it will start all over again.'

Colin nodded. 'That what Professor Lupin said. That I need to let Dennis… That it will be harder for him if he sees me again.'

'He's doing better,' said Harry. 'I saw him with Susan Bones by the lake the other day. I think maybe they're dating.'

'Susan Bones?' Colin grinned. 'An older woman. Wayhey, Dennis.'

'I'll tell them soon,' said Harry. 'I promise. And then we'll get to work on setting you free.'

* * *

Meeting up with the Aurors was initially a bit disappointing, as they weren't going to actually do any hunting. Instead, Jimenez went through a series of defensive spells. However, Harry's irritation at not immediately getting out there melted away as he practiced the new magic.

'Not all defensive magic is about attacking,' said Meijer. 'Often simply bewildering your target will give you enough time to disarm and contain him.'

Harry swivelled his wand in the circular pattern Jimenez had demonstrated, then flicked it upwards towards Ron. ' _Replica Illusio!_ ' A new Ron appeared at Ron's side. Harry pointed his wand to the right and flicked again. Another Ron appeared. Harry moved and flicked, again and again, until the hill was scattered with Rons, all grinning at him.

'It's like that night,' said Ron. Replicas of Ron's voice echoed over the hill, merging into a chorus. 'When we all Polyjuiced into you? Seven Harrys.'

'It's more like twenty of you,' said Harry, not wanting to think about that day.

'Hermione was right,' said Ron. All the Rons looked around at the other Rons and their bright orange Cannons t-shirts. 'This shirt washes me out a bit.' He shrugged. 'I'm willing to make that sacrifice for my team.'

'Kind of a necessary part of being a Cannons fan, isn't it?' said Nott. 'Martyrdom?'

Twenty Rons glared at him. 'And who do you support?'

'The Bats, of course,' said Nott, lifting his chin. 'My cousin plays for them.'

'Easy supporting a team when they win,' Ron muttered. 'Doesn't require any real loyalty.'

'Right, right, right!' said Jimenez, clapping her hands. 'Let's move on.'

After a couple of hours of practice, they made their way back to the castle. Meijer fell into step next to Harry. 'You are happy with our new plan?'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'It's brilliant.'

'I am glad that you are pleased with it.' Meijer smiled–warm blue eyes, crinkling at the corners.

'Thank you. For not...' _For not hating me_. 'For giving me another chance,' said Harry.

'Everyone deserves a second chance,' said Meijer. He ruffled Harry's hair. 'Even headstrong boys who don't like to do what they are told.'

Even though being called a "boy" gave Harry a ping of disappointment, he laughed while ducking away. Meijer made him feel so strange. He put a glow inside him, a desire to be seen. What confused Harry was its familiarity. When had he felt this way before? And why did it make him ache?

* * *

The day's various activities had left Harry a bit worn out despite his nap. There was an hour until dinner. He welcomed the darkness of the Slytherin common room. Wanting some quiet time to himself, he picked one of the leather armchairs and turned it so it faced the corner. Using the light of his wand, he thumbed through Bill's book until he found where he'd left off. Astoria's cat padded over and looked up at him, mewing. He patted his knee. She jumped up and settled, purring, in his lap. Her warmth spread through his jeans. Instead of reading, he ran his fingers through the fur on the back of her neck.

'It's ultimately pointless.' Malfoy sounded disdainful as he entered the room. 'They'll come over, maybe even have a good time, but they'll never truly like us. We'll never be friends with them.'

'Hmm.' Astoria was there too. 'Do you mean the Gryffindors? Or one particular Gryffindor?' A pause. 'Don't look like that, darling. It's nothing to be ashamed of.'

Malfoy spoke in a vicious whisper. 'You're talking utter nonsense. Not that that's anything new.'

'I simply remember how you were with Adrian.'

'Adrian! That oaf. I haven't thought of him in years.'

'Yes,' said Astoria, her voice gentle. 'Only at the time… Oh, never mind Adrian. He doesn't matter. But have you considered, Draco, that if you wish for someone to like you, you'll have more luck if you behave… likeably.'

'What an angel you are.'

Harry whispered, ' _Nox_ ,' and shrunk down into the chair. One particular Gryffindor. Did she mean him? She couldn't mean him. Harry snorted to himself. Malfoy didn't give a fuck whether or not Harry liked him. But then who? Merlin, Malfoy's voice. If Harry responded like this every time Malfoy spoke, it was going to be a problem.

'You're still planning on going ahead with it?' asked Theo.

Harry twitched. If they all flooded into the room, he'd have to keep hiding until they left again. It would be better to reveal himself now than wait until it looked like he'd spent ages eavesdropping on their conversation. He coughed, then lowered the cat to the floor and stood up.

'Oh for fuck's sake!' said Malfoy, looking more startled than Harry reckoned was warranted.

'We didn't know you were here, Harry,' said Astoria, looking at Malfoy.

'Sorry,' said Harry. 'I, er, yeah. So I thought I should…'

The dim lighting made Malfoy's pale skin look almost white. 'Trying to eavesdrop, Potter? Make sure the Slytherins aren't up to anything wicked?'

'Are you?' Harry smiled, to make it clear he was joking, but Malfoy glared anyway.

Theo had his hand over his mouth. Harry thought he might be laughing, but wasn't sure. There was something going on. Bloody Slytherins and their secrets. Harry wanted to ask which Gryffindor Astoria had been talking about, but Malfoy was clearly agitated and Harry figured it would be best to leave it alone. Malfoy wouldn't look at him.

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets. How long ago had it been? Malfoy had changed his robes and it looked like he'd showered and done whatever it was he did to make his hair so sleek and shiny. Harry rocked on his feet. He wanted to rub his face against the bit of exposed neck beneath Malfoy's jaw. Malfoy finally slid his eyes in Harry's direction. Harry bit his lip to keep from smiling, but he let it show in his eyes. Malfoy didn't smile back, but his shoulders relaxed.

Harry couldn't be the specific Gryffindor Malfoy wanted to like him. He knew that. 

He was pretty sure he knew that.

* * *

A week passed, and Harry still hadn't figured out how he was going to tell Ron about Fred's ghost. Every day he procrastinated made him feel guiltier. And Hermione hadn't said anything about a solution to the ghosts' predicament yet. Andromeda had sent him an owl telling how Teddy was getting on. It contained a photo. Teddy waved the toy Snitch Harry had given him, gurgling happily, then shoved it in his mouth. Harry ignored his breakfast, staring at the photo, until Ron reached across the table and snatched it away to look at it with Hermione. They'd have to go and visit again soon. He thought about Remus and Tonks and didn't touch his toast and eggs.

A great rustling filled the air as a flock of paper cranes flew into the Great Hall.

'Oh, it worked!' Astoria clapped her hands.

Everyone looked up as the cranes circled above the tables, round and round. They separated and landed in front of each student in turn, slowly opening and closing their wings.

'What's on?' asked Seamus. He reached for his crane and peered at it suspiciously.

'Be careful!' said Hannah. 'They could be cursed!'

'They're not cursed,' said Malfoy. 'You're meant to open them and read them. Clearly, we should have sent separate owls with instructions first, but I forgot how dimwit–'

'Keep quiet for once,' said Nott. 'You'll ruin it.'

As everyone started unfolding their cranes, the Great Hall exploded into cacophony as they all started singing at slightly different times. They had high, tinny voices. Harry wanted to cover his ears, but his crane kept trying to peck his face. It had a sharp beak for a piece of parchment. 'Why's mine the only one trying to bite?'

'I made yours especially for you,' said Malfoy.

Harry showed him two fingers, then managed to open the last fold of parchment.

'Slytherin House is very old  
Cosy for us, but for some it's cold  
Come and join us for a midnight soirée  
Hot buttered rum and games to play  
Blankets and jumpers to warm you right up  
Don't be afraid, take a chance, Buttercup.  
We might be snakes, but I swear we won't bite  
Join us on Tuesday, in the middle of the night.'

'A party,' said Luna. 'How lovely.'

'Your poetry sucks, Malfoy,' said Ron.

Malfoy started whistling Weasley is Our King.

This is what they'd been talking about the other week, Harry realised. He glanced at Malfoy, who quickly looked away. The mood of the room lifted, with everyone talking. Astoria beamed, looking happier than Harry had ever seen.

'They seem to like the idea,' said Daphne. 'That's sweet, I suppose.'

'I'll show you sweet,' said Seamus, making an obscene gesture.

'I'm certain you'd like to,' said Daphne.

The Ravenclaws whispered, their heads bent together. Eventually, Anthony Goldstein raised his arm. 'We'll bring spirits!'

'They've set up a distillery in one of the spare rooms,' said Hannah. She lifted her hand. 'I'll bring cakes!'

'I'll bring records,' said Ernie Macmillian.

'You will not,' said Justin. 'I'm not spending all night listening to A Cauldron Full of Boiling Love.'

'It's hot, strong love,' said Ernie, indignantly. 'And Celestina is a musical genius, I'll have you know.'

'Oh, this is wonderful,' said Astoria. 'Everyone's joining in. It's just what I hoped for.'

'It'll be an opportunity to get sozzled, if nothing else,' said Malfoy.

'Sozzled?' said Harry.

'Potter,' said Theo. Harry had never seen him with this expression before–his face lit up with amusement. 'Potter, you have to see Draco drunk. You have to. It's an experience all its own.'

Harry _had_ seen that expression on Malfoy's face before. Red spots on his cheeks and murder in his eyes. 'Something to look forward to,' Harry said, grinning.

'Fuck you both,' said Malfoy.

'You wish,' said Harry, on reflex.

The rest of Malfoy's face went red and Harry felt his own do the same. Harry cursed himself, but it didn’t seem as if anyone but the two of them had noticed what he'd said. And Theo, of course, who looked like he might fall off the bench, he was laughing so hard.

* * *

Harry finished his rounds with Meijer early and returned to the castle. As he headed towards the library to find Hermione, he thought about Nott's behaviour at lunchtime. He and Malfoy had messed around twice more since the empty classroom: handjobs in the broom cupboard and a quick and frantic bout of frotting in the common room when they'd run into each other in the middle of the night. Nott knew, Harry realised. Malfoy had told him. Of course he had. Malfoy had probably bragged about it. He bragged about everything, why not this too? Harry paused and rested his hand against the wall for support. Maybe he'd told all the Slytherins. Before the war, Malfoy had held court at the Slytherin table, never missing an opportunity to spin a story about Harry's humiliation.

If Ron found out… Harry squeezed his eyes shut. If Ron knew, Harry would have already heard about it. He decided to have a word with Malfoy, to make him understand that anything they did was private, between the two of them.

Once in the Library, he had to search behind several different towering piles of books. He discovered Hermione bent over the huge book she'd shown him and Ron the previous week. She'd tied her hair back in a ponytail, but several curly locks had fallen loose over her forehead. The text of the book looped and swirled, all in Latin; Hermione followed it by making a dot of white light dance across the page. She frowned as she read, looking paler than usual. A wave of fondness held Harry in place.

It was easier, sometimes, to remember that she and Ron were still his when he was with them individually. As happy as he was that they'd finally settled into a romance, he often felt like a third wheel. Which was childish, he knew, but he couldn't help it. They were the closest thing he had to family and he didn't know who he was without them. And while he knew intellectually that they weren't abandoning him when they went off together, sometime he got a bit panicky.

So it was nice, now and then, to have them each on their own, all to himself. He cleared his throat.

Hermione looked up. Her lips parted and her eyes grew shiny. For a second Harry thought she was about to cry.

'What?' he asked, wondering where Ron was and if he could help. 'What's wrong?'

'Oh,' she said, closing the book with an abruptness Harry found surprising given the care she'd taken with it last time. 'Harry! I didn't see you.' She rubbed her eyes. 'Nothing's wrong, I'm just a bit tired.' She smiled.

'Did you find something in the book? Is that why you're upset?'

'No, no. Well, maybe. I’ve got one idea. I’ve just been reading too long, I expect. It's making my eyes ache.'

Whatever was bothering her wasn't something she wanted to talk about, so with some relief he let it go. Stalling, he gestured towards a book sitting on the corner of the table. It had a colourful illustration of a dragon on the cover. 'What kind of book is that?'

'It's a book of spells about the breeding of magical creatures,' she said. 'Look.' She picked it up and turned to the front page. The fourth name on the check out sheet read 'Hagrid' in a rough scrawl. '1943. He'd have only been thirteen. Can you picture Hagrid at thirteen?'

'I saw him at thirteen. In one of Riddle's diary memories.'

'Oh, that's right.' She got a wistful look. 'Was he sweet?'

'He was huge. And he had a giant spider in a box.' Harry looked at the faded ink of the messy signature. 'When do you suppose he'll be back for good?'

'When I had tea with him in his hut last month, he said that Grawp was healing quickly.' She set her wand on the table and turned to him. 'Did you have something you wanted to ask me, Harry? Is it about the ghosts? I've made some progress in my reading, and I’ve found something that might help. We need to create a door. A path for them to follow.'

‘Like the Veil?’ said Harry. A cold feeling spread through his stomach.

‘Yes,’ said Hermione. ‘Exactly like that. Only… It’s complicated.’

'Okay. And yeah. About the ghosts...' He shifted on his feet. The words still wouldn't come. He was going to have to show her.

***

Harry had imagined Hermione would break down, but she didn't. Her face went white with shock when she first saw them, but she quickly pulled herself together. He let her speak with them on her own. There were a number of ghosts he didn't recognise, but also a good number of young students. The process started in his mind. If he'd figured out where to look for the diadem earlier. If he'd gone to Voldemort sooner. If he'd found a way into the castle that didn't alert everyone to his presence… He slunk back against the wall. It was even colder here than in the Slytherin common room.

He lingered morbidly on Bellatrix, who swept back and forth in her isolated corner, muttering to herself. Another ghost sat alone. Harry squinted through the gloom at the hulking male figure. With a jolt, he realised it was Vincent Crabbe. Crabbe raised his head and spotted Harry. He scowled. Torn between dislike and pity, Harry kept his face expressionless. It hadn't occurred to him that Crabbe might be here with the others, but he supposed it made sense, given he died during the battle. Goyle, having been seventeen the previous year, was in prison for multiple uses of the Cruciatus Curse. His mother had wept though his trial. Harry didn't believe it was right to send a boy barely out of childhood to a place as bleak as Azkaban, but there'd been nothing he could say in his defence.

Snape and Hermione seemed to be having a whispered argument with some of the other ghosts. He made out Hermione saying, ‘We should at least try it!’ Tonks looked miserable, her head hanging low. Remus slid his arm around her shoulders. Fred… Fred was looking at Harry, not smiling. When Harry met his eyes, however, he grinned and waved. Disquieted, Harry waved back.

By the time she re-joined Harry, Hermione's face shone white in the gloom. Harry followed her out of the chamber. 'What?' he asked.

'I've got to do more research,' she said, not looking at him.

'What did Snape say? Was he being a git?'

'He agrees with me. I need to do more research.'

'It looked like you were arguing.'

'He doesn't have a particularly warm manner of speaking.'

Harry snorted a laugh. 'You can say that again.'

Hermione stopped short and seemed to shudder.

'What?' Harry asked again.

She didn't answer, but took his hand and held it tight.

Harry raised his voice. 'What's going on? You should just tell me if–'

'I was just thinking how lucky we are not to be in there with them,' she said. 'That's all.'

Harry wasn't sure he believed her, but she wasn't going to say anything further about it. She kept hold of his hand and didn't let it go until they reached the Slytherin common room.

'I'll tell Ron,' she said, hugging herself.

An initial swell of relief curdled into self-loathing, so Harry said, 'We'll do it together.'

Her eyes shining, Hermione smiled at him and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. 'Like always.'

Harry nodded. 'I'll go get Ginny.'

'Wait here and we'll all go find her at Hufflepuff. The atmosphere might make it a bit easier for everyone.' She disappeared into the Gryffindor boy's room.

As he waited, Harry leant against the wall and looked for the cat, but she wasn't around. A school of tiny glowing fish passed through the circular windows, one by one. The fire crackled across the room. Now that he was used to the constant cold, there were some nice things about staying in Slytherin.

The sound of Malfoy's laugh echoed out of the corridor, sending an automatic jolt of arousal down Harry spine. Which was irritating. Then Malfoy sauntered into the room with Nott at his side. He spotted Harry and their eyes locked, Malfoy's still gleaming with amusement. Harry's pulse sped up. The automatic reaction pissed him off. He lowered his chin and glowered. Malfoy stopped what he'd been saying, his lips parted.

'Salazar,' said Nott, shaking his head. 'You two are going to–'

Ron and Hermione emerged and to Harry's relief, Nott shut his mouth.

Malfoy, still staring at Harry, tripped over the edge of the carpet. Nott grabbed his arm to steady him.

'Watch your step, ferret,' said Ron. He looked pale enough that it was clear Hermione had already told him about Fred.

'Wash your face, Weasley,' said Malfoy. 'It's filthy. No, wait, that's just what your skin looks like.'

Nott sighed and looked at the ceiling.

Harry knew, because so much staring had forced him to start understanding Malfoy's behaviour whether he liked it or not, that Malfoy had only snapped out of embarrassment. But Ron didn't. 'Merlin,' he said, 'I thought you lot were trying to be friendlier.'

Malfoy raised his chin. 'It’s easier with some than others.' He started to leave the common room. He could be so _prissy_ and Harry didn't know why it made him want to mess up his hair and bite his neck.

Because he had years of experience watching Ron, Harry knew that he was about to lose his temper. He walked towards him. 'Hey, let's–'

'You still reckon you're better than everyone else, don't you?' said Ron to Malfoy.

'Not _every_ one,' Malfoy drawled. 'But in the case of Weasleys, it's simply undeniable.'

'You're not,' said Ron, his voice cold and tense. Hermione took his arm, but he shrugged her off. 'Supported him to the end, didn't you? Only turned when you knew he was going to lose.'

Malfoy's eyes flicked to Harry, then back to Ron. 'Shut your mouth, Weasley, you know nothing about–'

'Your father may have weaselled his way out of Azkaban, but he's still Death Eater scum and you're no better.' He gave Harry a nudge. 'Tell him.'

'Look now, Weasley,' said Nott. 'That's crossing a line.'

Ron spread his arms. 'It's the truth.'

Harry hesitated. It wasn't as if he and Malfoy had become friends. He still couldn't stand the git. He remembered Malfoy smirking down at him as he tucked himself away and tried not to squirm. Given what had changed between them, however, Harry felt awkward about ganging up on him. Even if Malfoy had brought it on himself. And Malfoy was watching Harry, his body tense, waiting to see what Harry would do.

'He's not a Death Eater anymore,' he said to Ron.

Ron looked at Harry a second, his brow creased. 'What?'

'He's just mouthing off,' Harry continued.

'But he said–'

'Harry's right,' said Hermione. 'He's just baiting you.'

His voice rising an octave, Ron said, 'Are you defending him, Harry?'

' _No_ ,' said Harry. 'But we need to go find Ginny.'

'Come on,' said Hermione, rubbing his arm.

Ron stared at Harry, looking like he suspected him of being someone else on Polyjuice. 'Fine,' he said, and stomped out of the common room. Hermione ran after him.

His face expressionless, Malfoy stood silent and pale. Harry wanted to shake him. He didn't know what to do with the twisted knot of contradictions Malfoy made him feel. 'You know his brother died, right?' he asked Malfoy.

Malfoy nodded.

'Probably best not to rile him up then.'

'Whatever you say, Potter.'

With a sigh, Harry went to catch up with his friends.

* * *

The atmosphere in Hufflepuff didn’t help. Ginny stared at her knees, silent tears trailing down her cheeks. Hermione sat beside her, an arm wrapped around Ginny's shoulders.

'Right,' said Ron. 'We've told Ginny. Now you tell me where he is.' His hands in fists, Ron marched across the Hufflepuff dorm room and stopped halfway to the door. 'Tell me now. What part of the castle?'

'Ron,' said Hermione. 'Please sit down.'

Harry, slumped on Parvati's neatly made bed, pressed a hand to his stomach.

'You told me to wait until Ginny knew,' said Ron. 'She knows. I want to see him. I need… I need to…' He swallowed. Then again. 'Where is he, Harry?'

'You can't tell anyone else,' said Harry. 'If it gets out, it will be a disaster.'

'You're giving me rules about it? He's my brother! And I thought he was dead.'

'Oh, Ron,' said Hermione. 'He's still dead. Ghosts aren't–'

Ron put a shaking hand to his forehead. 'Not the time for a lecture, 'Mione.'

She burst into tears. Harry envied her. His ribs ached from holding in the swell of sorrow.

'Harry,' said Ron, holding out his hands, begging.

Harry's tongue felt thick and heavy as he spoke. 'They're in the dungeon. In the room where Nearly Headless Nick held his Deathday party.'

'Right.' He took a deep breath. 'Come on, Gin.'

Ginny didn't move.

'Come on, Gin,' Ron repeated. He gave her a quivering smile. 'It's Fred. We're going to see Fred again.'

'I'm not,' said Ginny in a rough voice. 'I'm not going to see him.'

'What?' Ron rubbed at his face. 'Everyone… Everyone's gone mental.' He lowered his hands. 'You're not coming with me?'

She shook her head. 'I can't. I don't want to.'

'For fuck's sake, Ginny!'

Ginny leapt to her feet. 'You go! You go see him if that's what you need. But I can't. It's not as if we have him back. He's a ghost! And he'll be gone again soon. I can't go backwards. My heart will break all over again.'

Ron's face contorted.

'And you mustn't tell Mum,' said Ginny. 'You mustn't tell any of them.'

'George has the right to know,' said Ron.

'No.' Ginny vehemently shook her head. Her eyes widened. 'He won't be able to handle it. He's barely coping at it is. You can't tell him.'

Ron turned his head away.

'Ron! Promise me you won't tell them.'

'I need to think about it,' he said. 'I can't think right now. I need to go see Fred.'

'At least promise me you'll talk to me first.'

'Okay,' said Ron. He turned and left. Hermione got up and ran after him.

Ginny stood still, staring blankly, tears crusting on her face. Harry rose and went to her. He pulled her into his arms. She buried her face against his shoulder, shaking as she cried.

* * *

Given that his best friend was having an emotional breakdown, a rogue Death Eater was hiding nearby, and ethereal manifestations of Harry's festering guilt were having a campout in the dungeon, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to go to a party. It seemed frivolous. But Hermione reminded him that celebrations were even more important when times were dark: they made things lighter. They showed you weren't giving in. He also wanted to see what Malfoy was like when he was pissed. So, when midnight arrived on Tuesday, he joined the others in the Slytherin common room.

A good-sized crowd had gathered, including most of the Slytherins and Gryffindors, and a good amount of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs too. Some wore warm clothes or had soft-looking blankets wrapped around their shoulders. Luna wore a sequined evening gown, which was too long for her and trailed on the floor at her feet. An old-fashioned turntable with a huge brass horn blasted a Scorned Warlocks song in a cleared-out area in the corner and a few people gathered around it, moving to the music. Ginny danced with Dean, who was wearing a thick, fisherman's jumper. Her hair swung behind her and Harry was relieved to see her smiling.

Someone had conjured a bar. On one side sat a row of mugs and a bubbling cauldron of what Harry guessed was buttered rum. Anthony Goldstein stood behind the other side, looking handsome in green paisley robes that highlighted his dark curly hair and olive skin. He was in the process of mixing a bright red drink with clouds of golden steam puffing from the surface. 'That's the Gryffindor,' he said, dropping a maraschino cherry into it. 'Might burn a bit going down, but it'll give you courage.'

Warily, Harry took it. It smelled sweet and spicy. He took a sip and winced. It made firewhisky seem like lemonade. He decided to drink it slowly. 'What's in it?'

'Red rum, grenadine, ginger beer and a touch of liquid fire.'

'What's in the Slytherin?' Harry asked.

'Absinthe, angostura bitters, tonic water, sugar-ice and silver flakes. It's cold, but it'll make you cunning.'

'You've put a lot of thought into them,' said Harry.

Anthony beamed.

Hermione and Astoria sat talking together near the bookshelves. Harry looked around, but didn't see Ron. He sipped his drink and wandered over to the girls.

'And did you have a television?' asked Astoria, rapt.

'We did,' said Hermione.

'Moving stories whenever you like. It sounds wonderful. I've always wanted to see one. Do you miss it?'

'No, not really. Magic is so much more interesting. I feel like I'll never learn it all.'

'You're going to try, though,' said Harry, grinning.

Hermione returned his smile and nodded at his drink. 'Careful with that.'

'They're terribly strong,' said Astoria.

'Where's Ron?'

With a frown, Hermione said, 'He told me he'd be along later.'

Harry pushed away a twist of anxiety. Hermione wore a pretty flowered dress, but no scarf or jacket. 'You don't have a blanket.'

'Astoria casts fantastic Warming Charms,' she said.

'Would you like one, Harry?' Astoria asked.

Harry shrugged a yes and, with a shy smile, she twirled her wand. A delicious wave of heat shivered over his skin. 'Thanks,' he said. He hadn't realised how resigned he'd become to feeling cold. The common room looked entirely different now that he was comfortable. The wood carvings and glowing glass of the hanging lamps held a mystical kind of beauty. As he took in the room, however, he realised that with a few exceptions it was divided into House groups: the Hufflepuffs gathered by the fire, the Slytherins on the chairs and sofas by the windows, the Gryffindors near the dance floor and the Ravenclaws around the drinks.

He paused, considering, then went back to the bar. 'Reckon I'll try a Slytherin,' he said to Anthony.

'You've barely touched your Gryffindor.'

'Planning ahead,' said Harry.

He carried the drink over to the Slytherins and offered it to Malfoy, who was holding court. Malfoy sat with his legs crossed, arms stretched over the back of the sofa. No robes, but black trousers and a silky-looking reddish shirt with the top three buttons undone. It made his hair and skin glow.

'That for me, Potter?' he drawled. 

'Yup,' said Harry. 'Interhouse co-operation, isn't that what the party's about?"

'You're just trying to get me drunk.'

'That too,' said Harry. 'I want to see what Nott was on about.'

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, but he took the drink.

Daphne sat perched on a chair, dressed in pale blue robes, her hair–a darker blonde than Astoria's–twisted into a knot at the back of her neck. Nott–also in shirt and trousers, both black–leant against the armrest of the sofa, his legs curled beneath him. He, along with Millicent and the other Slytherins, watched eagerly as Malfoy took a sip.

'I don't remember agreeing to serve as entertainment,' said Malfoy. 'I've a mind not to drink anything at all.'

That wouldn't do. 'Don't be ashamed of being a lightweight,' said Harry. He took a long slug of his Gryffindor, and then had to pause a moment because, holy hell, it was strong and spicy. 'None of you purebloods can hold your drink. It's just a fact.'

The Slytherins erupted in outrage, except for Nott, who laughed, covering his mouth with his hand.

'What you know about purebloods could fit in half a thimble,' said Malfoy.

Harry shrugged. 'Four of my best friends are purebloods.'

'Weasley doesn't c– Ow!' Malfoy glared at Nott and rubbed his leg where he'd been kicked. 'Regardless, it's bollocks. Millicent can drink anyone under the table, pureblood or whatever it is you are.' He gestured lazily at Harry.

'Harry,' he responded. 'I'm Harry.'

'You're _Potter_ ,' said Malfoy, pronouncing the name as if he'd said 'gutter trash unworthy of my precious pureblood utterance'.

Harry scowled, irritated at the fact that he found it hot.

'Who can drink anyone under the table, now?' asked Seamus, who'd crept up behind Daphne.

'Millicent,' said Nott. 'Why, you think you can out drink her?'

’'Yer asking me that 'cause I'm Irish,' said Seamus. 'I'll thank you to keep' yer stereotypes to 'yerself. On the other foot, I've not yet met the man, or woman, who can hold their spirits better that yours truly.'

'We'll see about that,' said Millicent.

Little by little, people joined them. Neville and Hannah. Dean and Ginny. Cho, Michael Corner. More chairs were gathered. A Hufflepuff who'd been a year above Harry conjured some big, fluffy beanbag seats. Soon almost everyone sat together, laughing and drinking. Music pulsed in the background, a warbling ballad now. Harry slouched in his chair, feeling happy and relaxed. In the back of his mind, he worried about Ron and where he was, but once he'd finished his drink even that stopped bothering him.

Another Gryffindor was placed in his hand. He looked up to see Malfoy, who was holding a sparkly blue cocktail, staring down at him. The view brought back memories. Harry licked his lips.

'It's a Ravenclaw,' said Malfoy, lifting his drink. 'It's fizzy, but it'll open your mind, according to Goldstein.' Malfoy returned to his sofa. Harry was sure he'd unbuttoned another button on his shirt.

'He said that the Hufflepuff was sweet, but it would make you gregarious,' said Hannah.

The conversation grew louder and more chaotic as the evening progressed.

'We survived a war,' said Ernie Macmillan. 'You ever think about that?'

'Hard not to when we're all here rebuilding the castle it almost knocked down,' said Nott. Nott sounded clearer than Ernie, his diction still clipped. Harry realised that he hadn't had anything to drink. Nott got up and wandered over to the turntable. A moment later a _Boggarts_ song started playing. They were a bit screechy for Harry's taste.

'Not everyone survived,' said Dennis, who was sitting on Susan Bones' lap. She squeezed him and kissed him on the top of his head.

'What I've always wondered,' asked Ernie, 'is how you did it, Harry.'

'What?' said Harry, going tense.

'Yeah, Harry, how'd you manage it?' asked Seamus. 'Convince 'im that you were stone dead? ''Ol’ Serpent Testicles 'imself?'

Daphne gasped. 'Goodness, Finnigan.'

A dozen curious faces stared at Harry, waiting for him to respond. He glanced at Hermione and saw that she was still deep in conversation with Astoria. He slouched deeper into the chair. 'Er… That's… I don’t really–'

'Have you ever stopped to think how lucky we are that Potter even survived to Expelliarmus old Noseless Noggin?' said Malfoy. 'How many times did you nearly die of sheer clumsiness before the war even started?'

Harry blinked at him. Had he changed the subject on purpose, because he'd seen Harry squirming? It was the kind of thing Ron would do. Malfoy's cheeks were flushed with drink, his eyes shining. He was probably just drunk.

'Let's walk it through,' Malfoy continued, lying back and crossing his ankles, taking up the space Nott had vacated. His body looked long and lean all stretched out like that. Malfoy extended a single finger. 'In first year, your broom tried to kill you, then you almost choked to death on the Snitch.' Nott returned and glared at him, but Malfoy only smirked, so Nott plopped down onto one of the beanbags.

'After snatching it before you could,' said Harry to Malfoy.

Malfoy raised a second finger. 'In second year you face-planted during Quidditch again, and Professor Goldilocks Vanished all your bones.'

'Just the bones in my arm,' said Harry. 'Not all of them.'

Malfoy shrugged. 'We can all agree it's a confirmed fact that you were somewhat boneless.'

'Fine,' said Harry, grinning despite himself. 'I was a bit boneless in second year.'

'Third year you fell off your broom _yet again!_

'The same year you dressed up as a Dementor to try and put me off. It all comes down to you being jealous that I'm so much better at Quidditch than you are,' said Harry. Malfoy wrinkled his nose, which made something fizz inside Harry's chest. Merlin, the drink had really got to him. He took another gulp, barely feeling the burn anymore.

'You are, of course, entitled to your terrible opinion, Potter, but it's an undisputed fact that I'm a superior player in every way.'

Ginny, Dean, Cho, and some of the others joined Harry in voicing objection to that.

'Here's my impression of Potter playing Quidditch,' said Malfoy. He twitched about a bit on the sofa then rolled off onto the floor, where he lay moaning dramatically. Harry glanced at Nott, who mouthed, 'Told you.'

'Here's my impression of you never catching the Snitch,' said Harry. He plucked the cherry out of his drink and threw it at Malfoy. It hit him on the forehead and fell into his lap.

Calmly, Malfoy sat up and held the cherry aloft. It swayed side to side. 'Potter,' he said in an inebriated purr, 'Did you just give me your cherry?'

Harry cursed himself. 'And you couldn't even catch that,' he said, only managing a whisper.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. He dangled the cherry over his mouth, before plucking it off the stem with his teeth. He chewed and swallowed, his long neck undulating. Harry held tight to the armrests of the chair to keep from lunging at him. Heat had spread over the entirety of his body.

'Merlin, Malfoy,' said Neville, looking between him and Harry.

A hand came to rest on Harry's shoulder. He smelt flowers and then Ginny was whispering in his ear. 'You're drunk.'

'I know,' he said, still staring at Malfoy, who now wore a luminous, triumphant grin.

'You're flirting with Malfoy,' said Ginny.

'Avada Kedavra me,' said Harry.

'Well,' said Malfoy, back on the sofa. 'Is the magic working? I hope we haven't welcomed all this riff raff into our common room for nothing.' Being the centre of attention made him bright and shiny. 'Anyone feel a bit warmer than usual? You–half-bloods and Muggleborns–give us some feedback. Have we broken the curse of Slytherin yet?'

'I feel lovely and cosy,' said Luna, smiling serenely.

'You're a pureblood,' said Hermione, who had joined them at some point. 'It doesn't count.'

'I just thought it would be nice to share,' said Luna.

'Me, I'm still colder than a witch’s tit,' said Seamus. He leered at Daphne. 'Well, some witches' tits.'

Daphne patted her hair and arched her back. 'Keep your eyes to yourself, Finnegan.'

'The dungeons are ancient,' said Astoria. 'We can't expect things to change after just one party. We've got to keep at it. Think welcoming thoughts all the time, not just tonight.'

'Welcoming thoughts,' said Nott, dryly.

'We should be careful not to overdo it,' said Malfoy, rolling up his sleeves. 'I'm getting a bit over-heated.' He looked at Harry as he said it. Harry bit his lip, aware that Ginny was watching him.

Hannah burst out crying.

It took a few seconds, but the conversation tailed off.

She stood up, covering her face. 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It's a lovely party. I don't want to ruin it.' Neville leapt up and put his arms around her.

'What happened?' asked Astoria, who looked like she might start crying too.

Hannah shook her head, but her eyes went to Malfoy and his exposed left forearm. The rest of the room followed her gaze. The Mark was faint–just a greyish outline–but still evident. Malfoy stared down at it along with everyone else. All the joy bled out of him.

'Her mother was murdered by Death Eaters,' said Neville. 'Come on, Han.'

'I'm so sorry,' said Hannah again.

'Don't be sorry, lovely,' said Astoria. 'It's not your fault.'

Neville ushered Hannah away. The room fell into silence. Malfoy looked sick, like that time he'd overheard Harry and Ron joking about him.

Nott spoke. 'Draco, don't–'

Malfoy held out a hand, silencing Theo. He got to his feet, swayed, and steadied himself, back straight and chin high. 'I knew this would be a terrible idea.' He glared around at the crowd. 'None of you belong in here. You aren't like us. As if a _party_ was going to change that.'

'Oh, Draco,' said Astoria. 'It wasn't about you. Hannah–'

'Hufflepuffs in the Slytherin Common room. What were we thinking? And an Abbott at that. They're filthy blood-traitors all of them, everyone knows–'

Nott stood. 'Shut _up_ , Draco!'

'I'll say what I like. This is…' He glanced at Harry. Harry turned away. Malfoy took a shuddering breath. 'The lot of you can fuck right off.' He pulled his wand and waved it, making the people in his way shriek as their chairs skidded to the side. He marched through the path he'd made and disappeared into the dorms.

'Dammit!' said Nott.

'He doesn't mean it,' said Astoria. 'Draco's been through so much. He had too much to drink and he was upset. He didn't mean any of that.'

Despite this, people started leaving.

'It's late anyway,' said Cho.

'Mood's kind of ruined,' said Ernie.

'It was a wonderful party,' said Luna. 'I had a very nice time. You did very well, Astoria. And there will be other chances.'

'She's right,' said Hermione. 'We won't give up.' She hesitated, then gave Astoria a hug.

Harry stayed in his chair, wrestling with his emotions. He'd forgotten. He'd let himself forget who Malfoy really was. He was a bigoted, self-absorbed git and Harry was insane for carrying on with him. He had to stop. He had to end it. He already felt embroiled with Malfoy to an uncomfortable extent, but the scene had been a reminder of just who he was dealing with. He got up, waited for his head to stop spinning, then strode toward the dorms. He'd tell Malfoy it was over. That they had to stop.

He entered the corridor leading to the dorms and paused. He knew that sound. He'd heard it before, during sixth year and it had led to him coming very close to killing Malfoy. Thanking Meijer for teaching him how to silence his footsteps, he crept toward the room Malfoy shared with Nott and put his ear to the door.

Malfoy was crying. Thick strangled sobs, as if he were trying hard to hold them in. Shocked, Harry remained still, listening. Malfoy had looked so cold as he'd left the room. He pressed his palm against the door, wondering what to do. The sounds Malfoy was making pained him. He wanted to make Malfoy stop. No. He wanted to help Malfoy stop. For a moment he considered going in and put his hand on the knob. Then he realised it was a terrible idea. The last time he'd confronted Malfoy when he'd been crying alone it had not gone well. Malfoy wouldn't want Harry to see him like that–vulnerable. Human, Harry thought with some bitterness. And if he was being honest, Harry found the idea of trying to comfort a crying Malfoy terrifying. He knew he'd bollocks it up.

He walked back to the common room with his hands in his pockets and whispered in Astoria's ear. Her face creased in concern. She nodded, then got up and went after Malfoy. Harry was very tempted to snatch up his Invisibility Cloak and listen at the door, but decided it probably wouldn't be the right thing to do.

He trudged into his own dorm. Ron's bed was empty. He'd never joined the party. Harry plopped face down onto his bed and lay still, absently watching Seamus and Daphne make out across the room. Seamus had his fingers in her hair, Daphne seemed to be trying to claw off his shirt. After a moment, Seamus broke off and noticed him. 'All right there, Harry? How are ya' keepin'?'

'Confused,' said Harry. He spelled his bed curtains shut to give them privacy, then stared up at the canopy. 'I'm pretty fucking confused.'

* * *

The sun hung thick and golden in the sky, painting the Hogwarts grounds with honey-coloured late afternoon light. The trees on the outskirts of the forest stood still, their leaves barely stirring. Harry thrummed with excitement. This wasn't just an exercise, this was real. They were going after Dolohov.

He'd slept off the worst of his hangover, although his mind still crackled around the edges. When he'd finally got out of bed and gone to lunch, Ron was there, spooning peas onto his plate. He laughed at something Theo said, and dug into his chicken pie, looking happier than Harry had seen him in a year. Harry exchanged a look with Hermione. While it was wonderful to see Ron cheerful, he couldn't help but worry about the reasons for it. Especially when Ginny tried to speak to her brother and he ignored her.

Now, as they waited in the formation in which the Aurors had arranged them, Ron stood tense and determined, rolling his wand between his fingers. 'We're going to do it, Harry,' he said. 'We're going to get him. Dolohov will rot in Azkaban like the rest of them. I can't wait to tell Fred and Lupin. And Mum. He killed her brothers, you know. Gideon and Fabian.'

Harry nodded, trying not to show his unease. 'We're going to get him.'

Ron stood at Harry's right, Theo on his left, Lavender and Parvati in front. The girls had learned about the mission–they seemed to always know everything that was going on in the castle–and insisted they be allowed to come along. Meijer and Jimenez led the way, while four other Aurors covered the flanks and rear of the group.

'Right,' said Jimenez. 'Consider yourself honorary junior Aurors for the day. Which means you're all subject to the chain of command. Should a senior Auror give you an order, you will obey it immediately and without question. Is that clear?'

Harry, along with the others, answered in the affirmative. Meijer winked at him. Harry gave him a nod. If he could manage to get to Dolohov himself, he could prove to Meijer that he was capable. That he wasn't just a kid. On the other hand, he didn't want to let Meijer down again by disobeying orders.

They started at the spot in which they'd found Dolohov's camp. It was now deserted, of course. The campfire hadn't been lit in a while. After stealth and tracking spells had been cast, the senior Aurors cast silent Homenum Revelio charms as they circled outwards, little by little, moving deeper and deeper into the forest. It seemed an unwieldy way to go about it–pairing off would have made more sense and allowed them to cover more ground in less time–but this was safest.

The further they moved, the thicker the trees grew. It became difficult to stay in formation. The canopy above blocked more of the sun, making it darker and colder. The larger group put distance between Harry and Meijer. He missed the connection they had when it was just the two of them. An hour passed and they'd found nothing.

They reached an upwards slope and began to climb. Halfway up, the earth gave out beneath Nott's feet and he fell to his knees. Parvati helped him up again. Nott nodded his thanks. It felt like something interesting had happened. Harry struggled to stay focussed.

Nott was skinny and not very athletic looking. Harry didn't know if he'd make a good Auror. Of course different kinds of skills were necessary. Maybe Nott would be brilliant at strategy or counter-curses. Harry liked him. He had a way of fading into the woodwork, but when he did speak up he generally had something interesting to say. Funny, how he'd gone through school without getting to know any of the Slytherins. The louder ones–Malfoy and Parkinson–had overshadowed the rest of the group. Malfoy had been such a nasty piece of work. Really, he'd been horrible. He’d called Hermione a mudblood, bullied Ron about his family. He’d given Harry shit about the fact that his parents were dead. It was hard to meld all that with the boy sobbing in his bedroom: like a maths problem, for which you just couldn't find a satisfying solution.

Malfoy hadn't appeared at breakfast or lunch that day, and Harry hadn't seen him in the common room. He was probably still upset about what had happened at the party. Every single person in the room had been staring at his Mark. Harry imagined that would feel scary and humiliating. Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater any more, Harry really believed that. When faced with the reality of what following Voldemort meant, he'd been sickened. But the consequences of his choice would be permanently etched on his skin for the rest of his life. Harry rubbed his fingers over his scar. He knew what it was like to have a visible sign of your past on display; he knew what it was like to be judged for it.

'Halt!' cried Jimenez.

The Aurors stopped short and Harry walked into Lavender, making her squeak. 'Sorry, sorry,' he whispered.

'Defensive positions,' said Jimenez.

The Aurors turned outwards, wands drawn. Harry snuck a glance at Meijer, who was coiled with magical energy, then adjusted his stance to imitate him. Branches crackled and heavy footsteps sounded. Three centaurs emerged from the woods, bows aimed at them. Lavender and Parvati gasped. Harry recognised the dark skin and wild beard of the largest of them.

'What brings men into our forest?' Bane towered over them, as fierce and hostile as ever.

'We have Ministry permission,' said Jimenez, holding her wand steady.

'Your human ministry has no say here. This is our territory and we make our own laws. You are trespassing.'

'Back off, Bane!' said Harry. 'We're after an escaped Death Eater. He's as much a threat to you and your herd as he is to us.'

Jimenez shot Harry a death glare. Harry ignored both her and Meijer's urgent whispers. Bane held his bow steady.

'You remember the Death Eaters, don't you?' said Harry. 'They aren't fond of non-human beings. You fought against them in the end.'

'We will find the Death Eater and deal with him ourselves, if he's been foolish enough to encroach upon our land.'

'As human beings, we assert our right to hunt and punish our own criminals,' said Jimenez. 

Bane considered her. He snorted, and shifted on his feet. The other two centaurs flipped their tails. One was pure white, with vines braided into her mane, the other chestnut. Harry didn't recognise either of them.

Bane lowered his bow. 'See you conduct your business with speed. Your war caused great damage to the Forest. Do not extend it.'

'We'll do our best,' said Jimenez.

Bane gave her a solemn nod.

'How's Firenze?' asked Lavender, who's eyes had gone wide and dreamy.

Ignoring her question, Bane turned and galloped off between the trees, followed by the two other centaurs.

'Let me do the talking in future,' said Jimenez to Harry.

'Fine,' Harry crossed his arms. 'He's just very annoying.'

'He's gorgeous,' said Parvati. 'So majestic.'

Jimenez rubbed her eyes. 'It's starting to get dark. Dolohov must have moved deeper into the forest. Let’s get the kids back to the castle. We'll have to call in another team or two.'

Harry bristled, but stayed silent.

'A good exercise, even if we did not find anything useful, yes?' said Meijer to Harry.

'Sure,' said Harry, 'But I want to–'

Everything went black.

Lavender gave a little shriek and Jimenez said, 'Shhhh! Stay still! No one move.'

The darkness had a thick, cloudy quality. It smelt of ashes and stung Harry's eyes; he squeezed them closed.

' _Lumos,_ ' came Meijer's voice. Some of the others followed suit. _'Lumos!'_

Harry slit his eyes open, but darkness remained complete.

'It's Darkness Powder,' said Ron. 'Someone threw Darkness Powder.'

'Dammit,' said Jimenez. 'Aurors, surround the kids! Face out! _Protego!_ '

Someone yelled, and there was the thump of a falling body.

The Aurors started shouting. ' _Stupefy! Protego! Stupefy!_

Wand out, Harry twisted one way, then the other, trying to figure out where the Curses were coming from.

'Get down!'

That was Meijer's voice, Harry was sure.

'Get– Ahhh!' Another thump.

'No!' Harry lurched towards the spot where Meijer had stood, but smacked into someone's shoulder and rebounded backwards. He tripped over what felt like a body and crashed to the ground. 'Meijer!'

The heat of a Curse shot over his shoulder.

'Be quiet, Potter!' said Jimenez.

Harry felt along the body until he felt long hair. Not Meijer, one of the female Aurors. He pushed the hair off her neck and felt for a pulse. At first he found nothing, and hysteria tightened inside him. He moved his hand higher behind her ear, and there it was, a tap, tap, tap against his fingertip. He shuddered with relief.

'Harry!' a rough whisper.

'Ron,' he said. He scrambled backwards through the dirt and leapt to his feet. 'Where are you?'

'I'm here, I'm right here,' said Ron.

Harry reached out. Spellfire crackled through the air and he ducked.

'Move,' said Jimenez. 'We've got to get out of the range of the powder. Grab hands with the people nearest and move backwards.'

Harry felt through the air until he found a bony wrist. 'R–'

A wall of heat exploded in front of him and he stumbled. Holding tight to the wrist with one hand, he flung the other in front of his face and tried to move away from the heat, crashing through trees he couldn't see. Rough bark scraped against his arms; a low-hanging branch smacked into his forehead. His heart pounded and adrenaline shot cold through his limbs as he prayed that no one had been killed.

'Ron, are you all right?'

'It's not Ron, it's me,' said Nott.

Harry spun around and tried to go back.

'Don't be a fucking idiot!' said Nott.

Heavy footsteps sounded nearby.

'Ron!'

A hand slapped at Harry's face and then covered his mouth. He clawed it off, but Nott was pulling him away, saying, 'We've got to get out of the dark. We can't do anything until we can see.'

'They're back there in the fire! We've got to help them!'

'Merlin, you're as bad as they say. If we got out, they probably did too.'

Harry released his wrist and lunged towards the heat, but Nott grabbed a handful of his shirt. They struggled, Harry trying to return to the fire, Nott pulling him away from it. Harry stepped back and there was nothing there. He lost his balance and plummeted down the hill they'd climbed, scraping through the dirt. Nott cried out and fell with him. As they settled at the bottom of the hill, Harry realised he could see again. They were out of range of the Darkness.

Nott gaped at him, breathing hard, his eyes wide, his face streaked with dirt. Harry rolled away and got to his feet. His arm bled where he'd scraped it and his side throbbed in a way that said it would hurt a lot more in a few hours. Nott pushed himself up onto his knees and then went rigid.

'I'm going back,' said Harry.

'You aren't going anywhere, child,' said a low voice.

Harry spun around and saw what had made Nott freeze. Dolohov stood halfway down the hill. His face twisted into a vicious leer. 'Harry Potter. Just the man I wanted to see.'

Harry surged with anger and frustration. Why did it always have to be him? 'I was hoping to see you too,' he said. 'So are the Aurors. There's a cell in Azkaban with your name on it.'

Dolohov laughed. 'Doesn't look very likely they'll catch me at the moment, does it? They're all burnt to a crisp.'

'You're lying!' Harry shouted.

Theo stood up, his wand outstretched, attention entirely focused on Dolohov. 'No one caught fire,' he said. 'We'd have heard them screaming if they had.'

'Little Nott,' said Dolohov. 'And you'd know, wouldn't you? Remember that bird in Devon? She screamed like a Banshee. Couldn't shut her up. Had to give her the old AK so as not to alert the neighbours.'

'I remember,' said Nott, his voice steady.

'Then back away, child. Potter's all I want.'

'You think doing me in will bring your Dark Lord back?' asked Harry. 'Because, it won't. He's gone for good this time.'

'I haven't shed any tears for that fool. Let him rot. I'm not after bringing him back, I'm after what you have.'

'I haven't got anything!' Harry's voice shook. 'I'm just a kid!' He needed to know if Ron, Meijer and the others were safe. If the girls were safe. If anyone had been killed.

'You're a sight more than that and you know it,' said Nott.

His meaning hit Harry like a blow between the eyes. 'No,' he said. His shoulders heaved and he shook his head. The wand. Dolohov was talking about mastery of the Elder Wand. Harry’d thought he’d put it behind him. But, no. Even now, after everything, he was still marked, still an unwilling target. 'I won't let you do it.'

Again, Dolohov laughed. 'You don't have a say in the matter.' He pointed his wand.

Harry braced himself, defensive spells spiralling through his head.

' _Incendio!_ ' said Dolohov, relish in his voice.

' _Protego!_ ' said Harry, diving to the side.

' _Glacius!'_ screamed Nott.

The bolt of flame shooting from Dolohov's wand turned blue, froze, then fell to the ground, where it crumbled into nothing.

'You _were_ paying attention, weren't you?' Dolohov said to Nott. 'Clever boy. Your father would be so proud.'

'You're getting weak, Dolohov,' said Nott. 'Your Incendio is a far cry from what I remember.'

'My spells are as powerful as ever! _Incendio!_ ' Another blast of flame shot towards Harry.

Harry joined Nott in repelling it with Glacius. He wasn't sure why Nott seemed to be egging Dolohov on.

'See?' said Nott. 'Pathetic. A five year old could counter that.'

Dolohov's face twisted with fury. 'I'll show you, you brat. _Incendio!_ '

Fire spilled from his wand in a tsunami blaze. Harry staggered back from the force of it, crying, _Glacius!_ along with Nott. They barely managed to repel it. Sweat poured down Nott's face and neck.

'Enough of this,' said Dolohov. He focussed on Harry. Harry saw in his eyes what he was going to do, and he knew he couldn't counter it. He leapt to the side to get further away from Nott and, knowing speed was his only chance, said, ' _Expelli–'_

_'Avada K–'_

A voice from the top of the hill interrupted him. ' _Stupefy!_ ' 

Dolohov ducked, leaving his Curse unfinished. 

Jimenez cast again. ' _Stupefy!_ ' 

Dolohov blocked it. They each cast again, making the trees around them explode into splinters as they duelled. 

Harry raised his wand to join in, but Nott said, 'For the love of Merlin, Potter!' grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him away. Stunned by what Dolohov had revealed, Harry didn't resist. 

They crashed through the trees into a small clearing a few yards away. A trickle of blood ran down Harry's forearm and dripped onto the forest floor. He shivered with adrenaline. Dolohov and others like him would be after Harry forever–for the rest of his life. Anyone who'd heard what he'd said before he disarmed Voldemort would know that Harry was Master of the Elder Wand. Dolohov wouldn't be the last. He thrust his fingers into his hair. 

'You alright, Potter?' asked Nott. He leant against a tree trunk, staring down at his leg. 

'Sure,' said Harry. 'I'm perfect.' Shouts blending with the snap and crackle of spell fire sounded in the near distance. More of the Aurors had joined Jimenez. They'd keep Dolohov busy. 'Let's get back to the spot where he originally attacked and see if anyone needs help.' He ached to see Ron, to know that he wasn't hurt or worse. 

'Yes, okay,' said Nott. 

They circled around the bottom of the hill and began to climb. The shouting grew louder, but the fighting seemed to have stopped. 'They've caught him,' Harry said. 'I'll bet they’ve got him.' 

'Maybe.' Nott didn't look convinced. 

Harry grabbed a branch to lever himself upwards. Nott didn't follow. 'Hey,' Harry said. 'Are you coming or not?" 

Nott hugged himself, his face pinched and white. 'I did something to my knee when we fell. I don’t think I can climb the hill.' 

'Potter! Nott! Wait where you are, we're coming for you.' 

That was Jimenez. They waited, listening to the Aurors approach. Although Harry's sense of direction was messed up, because it sounded as if they were coming from the wrong direction. No. That was someone else. Something else, something much bigger than a person. Harry raised his wand, searching the forest around them. Nott did the same. 

Harry smelt rotting meat. A thicket of saplings snapped and fell beneath thick, hairy legs as an Acromantula forced its way into the clearing. 

'What is that?' Nott screamed, staggering away from it. 'What is that thing?' 

The spider ignored Nott and went straight for Harry. Harry shot a Bombarda at it, making it squeal and skid backwards, but it kept coming for him. He grabbed a branch, hauled himself up into a tree and climbed. The spider reached the trunk. Harry scrambled higher, his arms aching, hoping the spider would be too unwieldy to follow. When he'd climbed as high as he could go, he looked down. The spider had gone up on its hind legs. It reached for him, pinchers clicking, but Harry was too high up. 'Back away!' Harry said. 'I'll have Hagrid after you. You know he hates it when you try to eat us.' 

‘You're talking to it?' Nott's voice had gone high and wobbly.

Jimenez arrived in the clearing, breathing hard. Two of the other Aurors were with her. And Ron, along with Lavender and Parvati. Harry shuddered with relief. They began shooting spells at the spider, which squealed again and curled into a ball, its giant legs folded.

'Did you get him?' Harry called from his tree. 'Did you get Dolohov?'

'He got away,' said Jimenez. 'Disillusioned himself and ran off.'

Harry cursed, a wild, desperate feeling swelling in his chest. All that and they accomplished nothing. ‘Is Meijer all right?’ He held his breath.

‘He was wounded,’ said Jimenez. ‘Russell and Jape have taken him to St Mungo’s.’ 

‘You alright, Ron?’ asked Harry. He started climbing down the tree. 

But Ron was fixated on the spider, his eyes wide, his face green. 

The spider twitched. Then, with surprising speed, it righted itself and scrambled to the centre of the clearing. Ron shrieked. Lavender and Parvati flew into each other’s arms. The Aurors shot spells at it again. It was too late. Nott, directly in its path, screamed and tried to run, but his knee collapsed and the Acromantula was on him. Before anyone could stop it, the spider gathered him up in its hairy legs and carried him off into the forest. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to Magpiefngrl and Abradystrix for betaing. 
> 
> I used one video game spell in this chapter, because it fit. Please forgive me.

CHAPTER 6

The halls rang with the chatter and the movement of a thousand students. Harry pushed through the crowd, moving as fast as he could, knowing he was already late enough to Potions that Snape would take away hundreds of points. If he didn’t get there before the end of the class, Snape would ban him from playing Quidditch for the rest of the year and Slytherin would win the House Cup. Everyone else seemed to be travelling in the opposite direction, surging against him, preventing him from making any progress.

'Hey, Harry!' said Colin Creevey, blocking Harry's way. He lifted his camera and took a photo, blinding Harry with an explosion of light.

'Don't do that,' said Harry, rubbing his eyes. 'I don’t like when people look at me.'

'But you're important,' said Colin. 'We need photos for the history books.'

Harry tried to squeeze past Colin, but there wasn't any space. Colin took another photo. 'Get out of the way,' said Harry. He grabbed Colin's shoulder. Colin stiffened. A wave of gold blossomed in the spot where Harry touched him and spread down his chest, up his neck, until it covered his entire body. Harry jerked his hand away and watched in horror as Colin transformed into a golden statue. With echoing cracks, a series of fissures blossomed across Colin's surface. They deepened, crumbled, and Colin collapsed into a pile of rubble.

'No,' said Harry, breathless. 'I didn't mean to.' He spun around. There stood Remus, frowning and gaunt. 'Help me!'

'I cannot, Harry,' said Remus.

'You have to!' Harry tried to shake him, but the moment he made contact, Remus too became golden and then shattered.

'Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'Listen to Professor Snape. He's the only one who knows the counter curse.'

Harry tried to back away, but Dumbledore touched his face and Harry watched, horrified, as Dumbledore disintegrated. Harry hunched his shoulders and hugged himself, trying to avoid touching anyone else. The crowd surged, bumping into him, and each person who made contact turned to dust. Harry screamed and fell to the floor, curling into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible. 

'There's no use whining about it, Potter,' said Snape, looming tall above him. 'It's your fate. It is going to happen whether you like it or not.' Despite the fact that Harry didn’t even touch him, the golden curse swept up Snape's robes, over his arms and head, until he too solidified then splintered into pieces. 

'You're too powerful, Harry,' said Hermione, solemnly, her hands clasped at her waist.

'Hermione, don’t come near me!' Harry crawled away from her. The dust of the fallen coated his hands and knees, staining them gold, making them shimmer.

Hermione shook her head. 'It's too late,' she said. 'There's nothing I can do about it.' She reached out, close again. Her fingers neared his forehead.

'No!' said Harry. 'No, please. Please!'

The dust rose, clouding his vision. He couldn't see her. He couldn't see at all. It swarmed up his nostrils, coated his tongue and throat until he couldn't breathe. He gasped, trying to draw in air, but there wasn’t any.

One of his feet smacked against a bedpost as he thrashed, sending a bolt of pain up his leg. He sucked in a breath. Then another. His duvet had twisted around his waist. His heart pounded. Another nightmare. He sat up, shivering, squinting through the blurred shadows. He knew there was no point in trying to get back to sleep with this much adrenaline racing through his system.

He tied back the curtain and grabbed his glasses. Shrugging into his dressing gown, he put on his slippers, then shoved his wand into his pocket. The other boys remained asleep, he noticed with relief. He hadn't woken any of them this time.

Shivering beneath his pyjamas, he shuffled into the common room, aiming for the eternally flickering fire. Translucent, elusive images from the dream slid across his mind, prolonging the nightmare's sick ache. He thought about going to Ginny, but the possibility of finding Dean in her bed decided him against it.

He reached his favourite wingback chair to find it already taken. Malfoy gazed up at him, bleary-eyed. Memories of the last time they'd met in the common room in the dark ether hours made his skin tingle, but he didn't act on it. The dream still occupied too much of his consciousness.

'Potter,' said Malfoy, his voice thin with fatigue.

'Malfoy,' said Harry, his own the same.

Harry curled up in the second best chair and watched the flames wave and snap. He drank in the heat. Malfoy stayed silent. It was the first time Harry had seen him since the party. He yawned, then stretched out his legs. He kicked off his slippers and flexed his feet in the warmth of the fire.

'The chosen toes,' said Malfoy.

Harry snickered. He wasn't sure he had the wherewithal to deal with Malfoy, but he didn't want to go back to bed. It was curious that he so often ran into him awake in the middle of the night. He wondered if Malfoy had nightmares too. Or maybe he was upset about Theo. The dark feeling of his dream surged upwards, heavy in his chest. 'I'm sorry about Theo,' he said. He rubbed his upper arms, still cold.

'What do you have to be sorry about?' Malfoy pointed his wand at the fire and the flames rose.

'Well,' said Harry. 'It wouldn't have happened if not for me.'

Malfoy twisted in his chair to look at Harry. His bed-mussed hair fell into his face and he brushed it away. His hand clutched the wooden, snake-shaped armrest, his fingernails bitten to the quick. 'Are you… Are you really trying to claim responsibility for what happened to Theo? Your ego is astonishing.'

Harry thought that was rich coming from Malfoy, but he was too tired to fight. 'He wouldn't have been in the Forest if Ron and I hadn't convinced McGonagall to let us go out with the Aurors.'

'So, you're saying that because Theo chose of his own volition to do something stupid, it's your fault he…' Malfoy grimaced. 'What happened to him was your fault, because you came up with the stupid idea in the first place?'

Harry blinked at him, his eyelids heavy. 'What?'

'You have the manners of a troll. It's pardon, not _what_.'

Harry giggled. Sometimes that happened when he was extra tired.

Malfoy glared, then continued. 'Theo made his own choice. What happened to him is his own fault.'

'That how it is?' Harry kept his eyes locked on Malfoy's face, so as not to let them stray to his left forearm.

' _Yes._ ' He shifted to face the fire again and crossed his legs. He wore monogrammed powder-blue pyjamas. His slipper, also monogrammed, dangled from his foot. Bony ankles. Harry had a strange moment of wanting to see what his feet were like. Weird to know what someone's bits looked like, but not their feet. He spent a few moments remembering Malfoy's bits. He rubbed his face. 'The Aurors will find him. He'll be okay.' He'd been repeating that to himself over and over again in the days since it happened. If Theo were… If they didn't find him... He'd been fighting the deep, cellular need to get back in the Forest and search himself. He knew it would only make things harder for the Aurors if he did, but it hurt, like ignoring a virulent itch.

Malfoy shrugged. 'If you say so.'

'I do say so.' Malfoy's expression didn't change. Harry raised his voice. 'They'll find him.'

'Fine, Potter, they'll find him.' Malfoy crossed his arms. His sleeves drew up, revealing the tail end of his Mark.

Once again, Harry marvelled at the divide between this Malfoy–cold and arrogant–and the boy sobbing in his bedroom. When Malfoy yanked at his sleeve to cover the exposed part of his arm, Harry realised he'd been staring. Maybe it was because his half-asleep brain couldn't filter his mouth, or maybe it was because he needed to know, Harry said, 'You don't still really believe in all that pureblood rubbish, do you?'

By the slightest margin, Malfoy recoiled. Then he pursed his lips. 'I'm not ashamed of who I am.'

'I don't mean that. I mean, saying _Mudblood_ and thinking people like Hermione deserve to die. Do you still hold with all that? You don’t, do you?' He ran his fingers through his hair. Malfoy followed the motion. Harry tried to smooth his hair back down again, knowing it was futile.

Malfoy's gaze moved downwards and lingered on Harry's face. The corner of his mouth twitched. 'If I say no, will you suck me off?'

Harry exhaled a laugh. 'I'm being serious.' He tried to make his expression match his words, distracted by the little glow of he-didn't-know-what in his centre. It was always there now when Malfoy was around–a tingle of enjoyment. Of anticipation. He bit his lip.

With a sniff, Malfoy said, 'Baring our hearts to each other now, are we?'

Malfoy wasn't going to answer the question. Harry didn't know why he'd thought he would. And Malfoy hadn't said no. He hadn't claimed that he'd reformed, changed his mind, and was planning to start a charity to fund schoolbooks for the Muggleborn. But neither had he insisted that _of course I haven't changed my mind, and you'd would do well to see things my way, Potter, because they're accurate and if being a bigot means believing in facts, then I'll happily admit to being a bigot._

Merlin. Even when Malfoy wasn't talking Harry could hear him inside his head. The memory of his sobs remained vivid, and Harry didn't think someone without regrets would sound that wounded. The nature of those regrets was unclear, but Malfoy had helped with the party. He'd invited everyone into Slytherin regardless of who they were. He wouldn't have done that if he still thought non-purebloods were untouchable.

Or maybe Harry was telling himself that because he really wanted to suck Malfoy off.

He slid off the chair and knelt at Malfoy's feet, the flames crackling behind him. The prickling heat of arousal had gone a way towards clearing the clouds left by his nightmare. The firelight burnished the angles of half of Malfoy's face. He tilted his head. One cheek glowed warm and golden; the other receded into murky shadows. Harry touched his chin and moved it so Malfoy was all in the light again.

'You still haven't told me if you scarred,' he said. Malfoy wrinkled his nose. Harry fingered the top button of Malfoy's pyjamas–mother of pearl. He undid it, then moved to the next one. Malfoy sat very still. Harry reached the final button, then spread Malfoy's pyjamas open, exposing his chest. Malfoy's breath hitched.

The darkness of the room outside their patch of firelight created the illusion that they were alone in the castle, just the two of them. Aside from their breathing, only the snap and rush of the flames broke the silence. It surrounded them, cocooning them in their patch of illumination. Harry drew his fingers down smooth skin and soft golden chest hair. He had to lean quite close to see the faint white lines but they were there–the permanent marks he'd left. The smell of Malfoy's sleep-damp skin blended with the smoke of the fire. It curled through his mind like a potion. Starting at Malfoy's shoulder, he ran a fingertip across one of the silvery scars, angling down to his waist. Malfoy shivered.

Harry looked up, thinking he'd apologise, but Malfoy's face was as blank as a piece of unused parchment. 'You're Occluding me,' he said. He'd probably have kept his mouth shut if he hadn't been half-awake.

'So?' said Malfoy.

'Why? What are you hiding?'

Malfoy's lip curled. 'You always did like a good snoop, didn't you?'

Irritated, Harry pinched him, wanting to force an expression. Malfoy gasped, then grabbed Harry's wrist to hold it still. His shields had fallen and the intensity in his eyes made Harry go motionless. Malfoy's grip tightened. Harry's pulse thumped beneath his fingers. He tried to pinch with his left hand, but he only glanced Malfoy's skin before that wrist was caught as well. He jerked his arms, not so much because he wanted to get away, but more to see whether he could. Malfoy held him fast.

Harry's heart sped up. Fever sparked and caught, melting away the cold. Malfoy took in his reaction and gave him one of his cold, cruel smiles. They weren't real; Harry knew that by now. Malfoy could be cruel, but he wasn't an essentially cruel person. No one who looked that sick while being forced to torture could be truly cruel. Malfoy'd probably copied the expressions from his father, like so many of his other mannerisms. That didn't lessen their effect. Harry breathed through his rising arousal, trying to keep control. He lowered his eyelids and gave Malfoy a look that said _Yes? And?_

Malfoy's smile widened, showing teeth. He made a sound in the back of his throat, then lunged, shoving Harry back onto the floor. Harry fought instinctually, but the weight of Malfoy's body on top of his defeated him. Malfoy pinned his wrists above his head and held them there. It had happened so quickly that Harry's head spun. Before he could re-orient himself, Malfoy had shoved a hand down the front of his pyjamas and grabbed hold of him. Harry arched and yelped, his voice ringing through the empty room. He twisted, but even using only one hand Malfoy was able to keep Harry from pulling free. The pressure on his wrists hurt, but the fist around his cock made that seem unimportant.

Firelight reflected in his eyes, Malfoy leant close. 'Shhhhh. You'll wake them up.' His breath puffed against Harry's face as he spoke in a low, silky voice. 'You wouldn't want your Gryffindor mates to see you like this, would you, Potter? Held down and hard beneath a Death Eater?'

'Don't call yourself that,' said Harry, shivering. 'I don't like that.'

'Not sure I believe you.' Malfoy gave Harry's cock a squeeze.

Harry whimpered. 'I like _that_. I like you. Just don’t call…' He trailed off, realising what he'd just said.

'You are lying through your teeth, Potter,' said Malfoy.

There was something more in his eyes, but Harry couldn't identify what. 'Yeah, well, I'm finding clear thinking a bit of a challenge at the moment.' He lifted his hips, trying to change the subject and move things along. His fingers tingled with lack of circulation. He took advantage of Malfoy's distraction to wrench his hands free and put them to use pulling down Malfoy's pyjama bottoms. Malfoy hovered above him, bare from neck to hips, his cock wavering in the air. Harry squirmed. 'Malfoy. If you don't get me off right now I'm going to die, and you'll be known forever as the bloke who murdered Harry Potter. You don't want that, do you?'

'Let me consider,' said Malfoy, finally starting to move his hand–slowly, so slowly. 'I'd be famous. They'd put me in the history books. He who succeeded where the Dark Lord failed. If only he'd known that all it takes to kill the Chosen One is a slight case of blue balls.'

Harry laughed. 'You're putting terrible images in my head.' Malfoy smiled, eyes shining. 'Here.' Harry wrapped his hand around Malfoy's cock, making him hum with contentment. 'Now it's fair.'

Harry tried to be quiet as they wanked each other off. He really did not want to be caught. But Malfoy's hand felt so good that sounds escaped no matter how he tried to stifle them. Malfoy stayed silent until the end, when he moaned as he came, decorating another one of Harry's old t-shirts. Harry followed a moment later, gasping and whining from the back of his throat.

His skin alight, pleasure glowing in his core, Harry laughed. Malfoy's face shone damp and flushed, cornsilk hair in disarray, lips parted and he tried to catch his breath. Harry touched his jaw, drawn by a warm, swelling desire. By a feeling of gratitude for how good Malfoy made him feel and for chasing away the nightmare. He leant up without thinking about it and brushed his lips against Malfoy's. Malfoy had hot, sweet breath. Soft stubble tickled the tips of Harry's fingers.

He flopped back down. Malfoy looked like he'd been Petrified. Harry stiffened with embarrassment. Why had he done that? Stupid. A stupid thing to do. Malfoy stared at him like… Like Harry didn't know what. 'Sorry.'

Malfoy licked his lips like he was about to say something, then didn't. He cleared his throat, then in a shaky drawl he said, 'No need to apologise, I'm well aware I'm irresistible.'

Harry grinned. He resisted the impulse to pull Malfoy down and kiss him again. It hadn't been that big a deal, really. Just an impulse. It didn't mean anything. Malfoy knew that. Prickling with sudden nervous energy, Harry grabbed Malfoy, rolled him onto his back and held him down. Somehow, that made him feel calmer. Malfoy didn't resist. He gazed up at Harry, Occluding again.

Harry said, 'You never answered my question.'

'What question? Oh, right.' Another nose wrinkle. 'Salazar, let it go.'

'I know you don't,' said Harry. 'You don't still believe in that blood purity drivel.'

Malfoy shook his head, exasperated. 'Then why are you interrogating me?'

'I want to hear you say it.'

'Let me up, Potter,' said Malfoy. 'I've already had my way with you. You've no longer any leverage.'

'Your 'way with me',' said Harry, and bit down hard on his lip to tamp down something uncomfortably close to affection. What was happening to him? Malfoy said these stupid, affected little things and Harry went all funny. He rolled off Malfoy and climbed to his feet. He used his wand to clean his t-shirt and dressing gown, thinking that he was spending a bit too much time covered in come these days.

Malfoy stood and buttoned his pyjamas. Once they'd arranged themselves, they remained quiet, the atmosphere changing. Harry tied his dressing gown, feeling the chill again. He thought of his bed and the dark feeling resurfaced. He ran his fingers through his hair, rubbing at his scalp. 'Night, Malfoy.'

There was a strange, shaky look in Malfoy's eyes. He must be tired. 'Night, Potter.'

Remembering, Harry held up his hand to stop Malfoy from leaving just yet. He took a second to make sure it would come out right. 'I am sorry about the scars,' he said, forcing himself to look Malfoy in the eye. 'Honestly. I never wanted to hurt you like that.'

Harry thought Malfoy might scoff or make a sarcastic comment; he braced himself for it. But Malfoy only stared. Harry went back to his dorm, hoping he was tired enough to sleep. Hoping he wouldn't have any more dreams.

***

A pounding headache woke Harry just before noon. He'd missed breakfast–Ron hadn't tried to wake him. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Remnants of what had happened during the night floated through his mind. That had been… different–more than a quick and angry fumble. A shiver of anxiety fizzled up at the memory. He'd _kissed_ Malfoy. He had to be careful. 'Establish boundaries' Hermione would say. He wondered what else Hermione would say if she knew what he and Malfoy had been doing. He couldn't imagine she'd be enthusiastic about it. And Ron. Harry yanked on his jeans, then slid into a t-shirt. There's no way Ron would understand.

Harry didn't understand it himself. There was a lot about it that made him feel ashamed–letting Malfoy take control, doing what Malfoy told him to do. But it felt so good at the time. And he didn't want to ruin how good it felt. Relaxing in that particular way–allowing Malfoy to hold him down, to make all the decisions–felt freeing. It felt like he was accessing something deep at his core, some essential part of himself that he'd never before felt safe acknowledging. All he knew, was that as soon as Malfoy's touched him, the weight Harry carried from day to day, his guilt, the pressure of being the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, it was gone. Just like that. And he became Harry. Just Harry.

But he'd never find the words to explain that to Ron. In many ways it would have been so much easier if he'd stayed with Ginny. It would have been safe and comfortable. There was nothing safe or comfortable about Draco Malfoy. And nothing warm or caring. That was the point. It was sex. Just sex. And that alone felt like a miracle. He'd gone so long without feeling good. Something hard and ravenous inside him wanted to hoard it, to snap at anyone who'd try to take it away. So he couldn't tell Ron and Hermione, which made him feel like a terrible friend, but there was no way he could see around it.

It would be lunch in half an hour. He trudged through the common room, which was empty, and headed up until he reached the Entrance Hall. A group of Aurors huddled in the centre. Harry hurried towards them.

'Meijer's doing well,' said Jimenez, before Harry had a chance to ask. 'He'll be back in a week or two.'

A portion of the knot inside Harry's stomach relaxed. 'Thanks. Anything new about Theo?'

'Sorry, mate,' she said. 'Not yet. We're searching, shifts night and day, and we won't stop until we find him.'

He nodded, shoving away questions regarding what might be left to find. 'It was after me,' he said. 'The Acromantula. It's the second time I've seen one acting strange like that.' If he'd let it have him, then Theo would be safe. 'Are you sure there's nothing I can–'

Jimenez cuffed him gently on the shoulder. 'We're on it, Potter. Nothing you could do that we aren't already doing.'

Harry repeated that back to himself. There was nothing he could do that wasn't already being done. He still ached to get into the Forest and look for himself. But he wouldn't. This time, he wouldn't.

'You seen Weasley?' asked Jimenez.

'You mean today?'

She nodded. 'He wasn't at breakfast. I wanted to check in, make sure he's all right. That boy does not like arachnids.'

Ron skipping breakfast was a bad sign. 'I'll tell him you're looking for him,' said Harry. Jimenez gave him a little salute, then turned her attention back to the other Aurors. Harry moved a few steps away, then lurked, scratching the back of his neck and looking at the ceiling as if he were standing there innocently rather than trying to overhear what they were saying. People began arriving for lunch, though, and their footsteps and conversation drowned them out.

Hermione descended the Grand Staircase, her expression inward focussed. Her hair looked more tangled than usual. Harry waved to her, but she didn't notice. 'Hey, Hermione,' he called, and she looked up, startled. She had the huge, ancient library book under her arm. 'Have you seen Ron?' asked Harry

She shook her head.

'Well, where is he?'

'I've been in the library all morning, but he's…' She gave a helpless shrug. 'He's probably gone to see Fred again.' She adjusted the book against her hip. It looked as though she were straining under its weight, so Harry took it from her. 'Thanks.' She gave him a tired smile.

Harry examined the filigreed letters of the title: Historiarum Phasmagoria. 'How much time is he spending there?'

'A lot. I think he's scared that Fred will vanish if he doesn't keep him in sight.' She tapped her chin. 'Hmm. I need some potions supplies and the Prophet said that they've just reopened the ice cream parlour. We're going to go get Ron and use that as a lure to tempt him to come with us to Diagon Alley. Maybe the fresh air and change of scene will help.'

Harry nodded. 'Good idea.' He liked the idea of getting out of the castle himself.

There was a bit of a scrum as they tried to go back into the dungeons. They had to squeeze by a large group from the Hufflepuff Common Room coming up the stairs as they made their way down.

'You're going the wrong way,' said Ginny, grinning.

'We're going to get Ron,' said Hermione. 'You want to come to Diagon Alley?'

'Nah,' said Ginny. 'I'm playing Catch the Snitch with Cho after lunch.'

'I'd like to come along,' said Astoria, her voice soft and hesitant. 'If that's all right with you. I need to visit the Apothecary.’

Harry looked up. Malfoy, at Astoria's side, stopped short and ran a hand over his sleek hair, tense as a rabbit deciding whether or not it was in danger. The anxiety Harry had felt earlier when thinking about the previous night swirled upwards. Malfoy searched his face, asking a question; Harry answered it by frowning and looking away.

'That would be lovely,' said Hermione to Astoria. 'Shall we meet you in the Entrance Hall in ten minutes?'

Harry dared another glance. Malfoy had put on his imperious expression, chin in the air, face pinched. 'Move aside, Potter, your enormous ego is blocking the way. Although where it stems from remains a mystery, given you're about as prepossessing as a Goblin's arsehole.'

'Draco!' said Astoria, and slapped him on the shoulder.

So, they were already back to this. Harry spent several seconds trying not to picture what a Goblin's arsehole might look like, then said, 'Maybe try walking _around_ us. I guess you haven't realised that the days when people moved aside to let a Malfoy pass are over.' The curl of Malfoy's lip indicated that Harry'd struck home, but he felt no satisfaction. This was stupid. 'For fuck's sake, Mal–'

'I'll have you know,' said Malfoy, pointing his finger, 'that–'

' _Silencio_.' Malfoy's voice cut off and Astoria put her wand back in her pocket. 'Sorry, darling,' she said, linking her arm through Malfoy's and dragging him up the stairs while he sputtered in silent outrage. 'You're your own worst enemy. And I'm simply not in the mood today. You can have your voice back when you promise to use it responsibly.'

Rubbing at his temples, Harry glanced at Ginny. He thought she might say something sharp and funny about Malfoy that would make him laugh. She didn't. Instead she stared at Harry with an expression that made him desperately wish he could Obliviate the past seconds from her mind. As the others climbed the staircase, Ginny remained rooted to the spot.

'Give me a second,' Harry said to Hermione. She, thank Merlin, had been too preoccupied to pick up on whatever Ginny thought she'd noticed.

Ginny waited for Hermione to reach the bottom of the stairs and turn a corner out of sight before she spoke. 'Oh,' she said, eyes huge. 'Harry, what have you done?'

Head lowered, Harry hugged the book to his chest. He wanted to lie. Mostly. But Ginny wouldn't believe him. He gave it a half-arsed go anyway. 'I haven't done anything. Malfoy's just being a git like usual.'

No response. He peeked at her. She gazed back, one eyebrow raised, hands on her hips. 'The two of you were blatantly flirting during the party. I put it down to you being drunk, but the look he gave you just now… Something happened.'

Harry shrugged a shoulder.

'Did you… Did you… How…?'

'You want a detailed description?'

'Bloody hell.' She fell back against the wall and shook her head. ' _Malfoy_ , Harry. Of all people.'

He lifted his knee and propped the book against it to make it weigh less. 'It's nothing. Stupid. Just messing around.' There. He'd admitted it. No going back now. Surprised by how good it felt to confess, he grinned.

'Don't you grin at me,' said Ginny. She stepped closer and peered at his face, eyes narrowed.

His arms ached from holding the book. 'I've got to put this down somewhere. Hermione will kill me if I drop it.'

Ginny huffed and took the book from him. Harry hurried down the stairs, but Ginny followed him. 'I'm just getting some gold,' he told her.

As they moved through Slytherin common room, Ginny dropped the book onto a table; the sound of it landing echoed through the dungeon. Harry jumped and looked over his shoulder to see if Hermione had heard and was going to tell him off. 'Careful!'

'I didn't mean to drop it like that.' She followed him into the bedroom. 'Malfoy looked upset.'

Harry rummaged through his trunk and found a handful of coins, which he shoved into his pocket. 'He's always upset.'

'Did you knock him back?'

'Ginny…' Harry bristled. 'It's bloody Malfoy, Merlin knows what he was thinking.'

'What were _you_ thinking?'

He had to find Ron and Hermione. She'd leave him alone then. He hurried back through the common room and yanked open the stone door.

'I did wonder,' said Ginny, still on his heels. 'Even when we were together, you were so focussed on him. Almost obsessed at times.'

Harry exploded. 'I never thought about him that way when I was with you!' He slapped his hand over his mouth.

'No,' said Ginny, softening. 'I didn't mean it like that.'

'I'm not obsessed with him.' He marched into the corridor and almost smashed into Ron.

'Obsessed with who?' asked Ron. Hermione stood a yard away, looking quizzical.

Harry slid his hand into his pocket, but then remembered you couldn't Apparate away to avoid questions you didn't want to answer while inside Hogwarts. An irritating rule, really. Maybe he'd just Stupefy himself.

'With Dolohov,' said Ginny.

'Don't give him a hard time about it, then,' said Ron. 'It's fair enough. You should be more worried about him yourself.'

'She wasn't giving me a hard time,' said Harry. He marvelled at Ginny's quickness with a lie.

'I just don't want him to get hurt,' she said, eyes still fixed on Harry.

* * *

Harry wondered if he'd ever get used to the staring. He doubted it. Hopefully, in time, people would stop finding him interesting. On a clear, sunny day like today, however, when Diagon Alley was crowded, Harry wished he'd thought to Transfigure his appearance. He slouched and kept his head down, willing people to leave him be. For the most part it kept them from approaching him, forcing him to paste on a smile and try to give them whatever it was they needed from him. Nothing stopped the stares, though. He could feel eyes watching. Someone whispered his name, making him twitch and reflexively look over. Two witches outside the newly reopened ice cream parlour stopped talking as he spotted them. One of them waved. Harry lifted a hand in return. The other remained frozen, staring at him while her ice cream melted, dripping down the cone onto her hand.

Ron's hand landed on Harry's shoulder. 'The price of fame. Witches can't take their eyes off you. We'll get ice cream later when it's less crowded.'

'I want to visit Flourish and Blotts,' said Hermione. She gave Ron a pointed look. 'There's a book on spectrology I need.'

'You never had a brother,' said Ron. 'You don't understand.'

'I understand that you're starting to look ill,' said Hermione. 'This is the first time you've been outdoors in days.'

Harry cleared his throat loudly to remind them that they weren't alone.

'Are you interested in spectrology?' Astoria asked Hermione. 'We've got several different ghosts haunting the Manor in Surrey. They're primarily friendly, but Tobias gets very cranky during thunderstorms.'

'That's because he died of being struck by lightning,' said Daphne, who'd insisted on coming along when she heard her sister was going. 'You can't blame the poor man.'

'Daphne has a bit of a crush on Tobias,' said Astoria, with an impish smile.

'A crush on a ghost!' said Daphne. 'How ridiculous. Tobias is just a very good listener.'

'You never admit it when you have a crush,' said Astoria. 'Even now, you…'

Harry tuned them out as they passed Quality Quidditch Supplies. A new broom called the Peregrine took pride of place in the display window. Its black-varnished handle gleamed like polished marble. It had been ages since he'd played a proper game of Quidditch. He looked up at the clear, bright sky and wanted to be in it, feeling the air against his face. Looking for the Snitch, watching out for Bludgers, scheming ways to outsmart Malfoy. He missed that–beating Malfoy to the Snitch. The image of Malfoy's face, hair fluttering, eyes focussed and challenging, settled in his mind. The muscles of Malfoy's forearms flexing as he steered, his thighs tense as they gripped his broomstick.

'It's beautiful, isn't it?' said Ron, his voice soft with awe.

Harry jumped, then jerked his mind back into the present. The broom. Ron was talking about the broom. 'Yeah. And I need a new one.' He'd lost the Firebolt during the flight from the Dursleys.

'If you two are going to stand there drooling over Quidditch supplies, I'm off to Flourish and Blotts,' said Hermione.

'Me too,' said Astoria.

'We're going to the apothecary first,' said Daphne. 'If mother knew you'd let yourself run out of your potions, she'd make you come straight home.'

'They make me woozy,' said Astoria. 'And I've been perfectly fine.'

'Only because the effects haven't worn off yet. First potions, then books. Don't argue with me.'

'Well, all right, then. If only to stop you nagging.' She turned to Hermione. 'I'll see you in the bookshop in five minutes.'

'Why does she need potions?' asked Ron, once the sisters were out of earshot. 'What potions?'

'Don't tell anyone,' said Hermione, 'but she's got a blood malady. From an old family curse, apparently. But she doesn't like people feeling sorry for her.'

'Kind of hard not to feel bad,' said Ron, echoing Harry's thoughts. 'She's so nice. You'd never guess she was a Slytherin.'

'Just keep it to yourself,' said Hermione.

Ron nodded, then straightened up. 'You going to get that broom or what, Harry?'

* * *

Shopping finished, they had lunch then got ice cream and strolled down the alley. Harry itched to return to Hogwarts and try out his new Peregrine. He wondered if he'd be able to lure Malfoy out for a game or if Malfoy would still be cross. As they passed Gringotts a dark-haired girl swished down the steps, wearing silk robes and a gold necklace that gleamed in the sunshine.

Daphne gasped and shrieked. 'Pans! Pans!' She zipped across the road and threw herself at the girl. The girl returned her shriek and hug. They kissed each other's cheeks.

'Ugh,' said Hermione. 'I thought the Parkinsons moved to France.'

'They did,' said Astoria. 'They bought a chateau in Cote d'Azur. Her father helped fund Property Protectors and made a fortune.' 

'Property Protectors?' asked Harry.

'You know. They'd send people to your house to set up protective charms and devices. Everyone used them during the war.'

'I read about that,' said Hermione. 'It's fascinating how certain people will always find a way to turn tragedy to their own benefit.'

'Daddy's a partner in the company,' said Astoria.

'Oh,' said Hermione, looking flustered. 'Well…'

'It's all right,' said Astoria. 'He has very different ideas than I do these days.' Her eyes widened. 'Oh no, what's Daphne doing?'

Daphne led Pansy towards them, their heads bent together as they chatted. Ron and Hermione were suddenly standing on either side of Harry. Hermione had drawn her wand. As if she'd sensed the change in tension, Pansy looked up. She went pale. For a long moment they stared at each other.

'Storie, look who I found!' said Daphne, oblivious. When no one responded, she frowned.

Pansy angled her chin towards them. She fingered her gold necklace and smiled, shaking her shiny hair. 'If it isn't the heroic trio themselves. Forgive me, I'm all-a-flutter. It's not every day you get to rub shoulders with celebrities.'

'Don't ask for an autograph,' said Ron. 'We wouldn't waste the ink on you.'

Daphne's eyes widened. 'That was very rude.'

Astoria grabbed her sister's arm, whispering furiously.

'I don't think that's fair at all,' said Daphne. She jerked her arm away and moved to stand next to Pansy.

'Let's go,' said Harry. 'Let's just go.' He didn't want this. He had no interest in it.

Parkinson's eyes focussed on Harry, glimmering with dislike. No. Harry knew what dislike looked like, he saw it on Malfoy's face every day. This was pure, icy hate. He resisted the instinct to recoil and stared back. He didn’t say anything, just met her gaze until she blinked and looked away.

'I'll never understand what Draco saw in you,' she said. 'You're ugly as an erumpent.'

Harry ran over her words a couple times in his head.

'Oh dear, Potter,' she went on. 'You didn't know? Salazar, you really are as oblivious as people say.'

'Shut up, Pansy,' said Astoria.

Harry shook himself, then turned and strode off, holding tight to his broom. Hermione hurried after him, while Ron took a moment to shout, 'Get back to France, Parkinson, no one wants you here.'

They paused outside the back of the Leaky Cauldron.

'Well, that was unpleasant,' said Hermione. 'She was never a nice girl, but I suppose she's bitter now.'

Harry leant against the brick wall, trying to regain his equilibrium.

' _She's_ bitter?' said Ron. 'None of her family died and her dad made a fortune.'

'They were basically exiled, though, socially speaking. There were several articles in the Prophet about her father being a war profiteer and, of course, they mentioned what she did during the battle.'

'You make your own bed,' said Ron. 'That's what I say.'

Hermione sighed and Ron slid an arm around her shoulders. Harry picked at a stray bit of spellotape on the package holding his Peregrine.

'Oi,' said Ron, grinning. 'What d'you reckon she meant about Malfoy?' He put on a high voice. ' _I'll never understand what Draco saw in you._ You think Malfoy fancied you, Harry? It would explain a lot.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Ron,' said Hermione. 'Who knows what she meant?'

'I don't,' said Harry, still looking down at the bit of tape. 'I haven't got the foggiest idea.'

* * *

What was Malfoy up to?

 _One particular Gryffindor_ and _If you want someone to like you_ and now… _I'll never understand what Draco saw in you_.

Once they'd returned to Hogwarts, Harry bribed Ron to join him on the Quidditch pitch instead of returning to the dungeon by letting him have the first ride on the Peregrine. He shielded his eyes from the sun and watched his friend zip across the sky. Ginny whooped and did a spin on her broom. The Peregrine was fast. Bloody fast.

Draco hated Harry. He'd always hated Harry.

Ron performed a mid-air turn that shouldn't have been possible according to the laws of physics. Cho applauded. Harry paced, running his hands through his hair.

'I get next go!' shouted Ginny.

'It's my broom!' Harry shouted back. 'I'm next!'

If Malfoy wanted Harry to like him, it didn't mean that he liked Harry in return. He didn't like Harry. He'd said so. He'd demonstrated so. They had an… An arrangement. That was all. He probably wanted Harry to like him so he could use it against him. And who knew what Pansy had meant. Malfoy had called Harry unprepossessing just that morning. And yet… Whatever was going on between them, Malfoy had started it. The arrangement had been his idea. He'd wanted Harry. Heat prickled over Harry's face. If this went beyond just sex for Malfoy–and Harry felt a strange kind of embarrassment even considering that idea–then the whole thing was more complicated than he'd realised.

With a thump, Ron landed, windswept and breathless, grinning from ear to ear. It was such a relief to see him looking happy that Harry punched him on the shoulder. Ron staggered a bit, laughing, and held the broom out. 'Get yourself up there, Harry, it's a bloody miracle! I swear it reads thoughts. I didn't even have to steer, it just went where I wanted it to go.'

'Wicked,' said Harry. He grabbed the broom, jumped right on, and zipped upwards. Before he'd even had a chance to adjust to being airborne, he was high above the pitch. He levelled out, catching his breath, and shook his hair out of his eyes. He shifted left, then right, testing how the broom moved. Ron was right, it seemed to respond to your desires alone, but Harry reckoned it was just super sensitive to movement. 

'Come on, Harry,' called Ginny, waving a snitch in her hand. She released it. It hovered in mid-air, swept to the right, dove down a foot, then it was off, moving too quickly to follow. Smiling, Harry tightened his hold on his broom, bent forwards and flew.

Chasing the Snitch provided a specific sort of bliss. It took all Harry's concentration, and that, in combination with the rush of flight, made everything else fall away. He could live up here with the wind and the sun. Hogwarts castle, the mountains behind it, the forest, the lake, all of it spread out in a panorama around him. The Castle looked whole from this distance. Undamaged.

He made a figure of eight over the pitch, keeping his eyes peeled. You'd think that the lack of Beaters and Bludgers zooming by would make it easier to spot the Snitch, but somehow it didn't.

Ginny stared upwards, Cho flew in concentric loops, Harry searched for a flash of gold. Instead he spotted Malfoy's shiny head, bobbing in the distance. He was climbing the hill away from the lake, was heading towards the castle. He'd have to pass the pitch on his way. Just at the point where Harry's mind had begun to wander again, he spotted the Snitch–there, hovering close to the ground. Slowly, so as not to draw the girls' attention with the movement, he raised his head. Neither of them had noticed the Snitch. His broom had already angled downwards. He let it descend, making his posture and expression casual. No big deal, just going a bit lower. Something flashed across the side of his vision–Ginny–and Harry dove.

The Snitch danced inches from the ground. Harry could land and then try to snatch it, but he'd lose seconds and Ginny might get it first. If he didn't, he'd risk crashing, and crashing hard. The Peregrine zipped downward as if it already knew Harry's decision. Harry held on tight and gave in, wind battering his face, whipping through his T-shirt. He wanted the Snitch. He'd have it. Fuck the risk.

His broom gave him the edge he needed. As the green pitch flew towards him, he stretched out his hand, focussed on his goal. Only once warm metal hit his palm did he pull up, and then skidded wildly through grass and mud before coming to a stop. Ginny thudded to the ground beside him, cursing like a sailor. Harry grinned. His t-shirt had ripped and he'd scraped the hell out of his arm, but it was worth it. He sat up, spit out a clump of weeds, and held the Snitch aloft, whooping in triumph.

Someone clapped. 'Bravo, Potter, graceful as always. Keep that up and you'll put the groundskeeper out of a job.' Malfoy didn't stop walking. He continued along the path, his movements stiff and intentional.

Harry stumbled to his feet, wincing as his leg complained. He could tell he was going to have a lovely bruise. Malfoy's hair gleamed as bright as the Snitch. 'Malfoy!'

'What?' Malfoy snapped.

Harry wasn't sure why he'd called out to him. 'It's not what, it's pardon, didn't your parents teach you any manners?'

Malfoy pursed his lips so hard they went white. Harry could tell he was preventing himself from showing amusement. He rolled his eyes. 'Right. So, what do you want? I've got work to do, you've left me to finish the mirrors on my own.'

Harry'd forgotten about the mirrors. He could feel Ginny's interest, her eyes on them, without even looking at her.

Cho landed a yard away. 'Good catch, Harry.'

'Thanks.' Harry shifted his broom from one shoulder to the other. He rubbed dirt off the side of his face.

'Is that the Peregrine?' said Malfoy, as if he couldn't help himself.

'Yep,' said Harry.

Malfoy sniffed. 'It looks sturdy enough. I'm getting the special edition, of course. They're only making thirteen, but Father knows the manufacturer so he reserved one for me. It has actual Peregrine falcon feathers woven into the bristles, charmed with agility and locomotion spells that–'

'Harry'll still outfly you,' said Ginny. 'You can't buy talent.'

' _You_ certainly can't,' said Draco. 'How old is that Nimbus you're using?'

'A good flyer will excel on any broom,' said Cho. 'While even the best quality broom won't do any good if you haven't the skills.'

'Malfoy's got skills,' said Harry.

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up. Ginny bit her lip. Cho blinked. Harry looked from one to the other, realising what they all had in common. Maybe he had some kind of subconscious Seeker fetish.

'Have I?' asked Malfoy, his voice low. 'Tell me about my skills, Potter.'

'I'm just saying you know your way around a broomstick, is all,' said Harry. Drawn by the glint of heat in Malfoy's eyes, he took a step towards him, then remembered they were being watched and halted.

Ginny covered her mouth with her hand.

'Wait until _my_ Peregrine arrives,' said Malfoy. 'I'll show you exactly what I can do with a broomstick.'

'Are they fighting?' Cho, looking bemused, asked Ginny.

'Merlin knows what they're doing,' Ginny replied.

Malfoy pointed at Ginny. 'Keep your nose out.'

'Don't talk to her like that!' said Harry.

Malfoy bared his teeth. 'What do you want, Potter?' The breeze ruffled Malfoy's hair. His fire slowly dimmed. 'What do you… want?'

The barely discernible quiver in Malfoy's voice sent Harry's nerves swirling like a cyclone. He crossed his arms. 'What do you want?' he asked. Meeting Malfoy's eyes was agonising, but he did it.

Malfoy turned away. He chewed on his lip for a moment, then said, 'I want a life without you in it.'

Something cold settled in Harry's stomach. 'That so?'

Malfoy didn't look at him again. 'Have fun playing with your broom,' he said, then marched off towards the castle.

Ginny reached for Harry's arm, but he jerked away. Cho looked baffled.

'I'm going to go take a shower,' said Harry. He took the long way, crossing by the lake, so he and Malfoy would be less likely to meet up again in the common room.

It wasn't until he was back in the castle that he realised Ron had disappeared while he was still in the air.

* * *

As Meijer was still in St Mungo's and he suspected Malfoy would hex him if he set foot in the bathroom, Harry spent the next few days working with Seamus in Ravenclaw Tower. An intimidatingly large pile of stones filled a third of the common room, divided into those that were broken and those that had been repaired. Every now and then, a couple of professional builders would enter and levitate a group of them away. The volunteers, who included Ernie MacMillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Malcolm Baddock and Millicent Bulstrode, were tasked with repairing the cracked stones. 

Ernie seemed to have appointed himself boss of the others. 'You're still leaving too much rubble behind, Malcolm. The stone won't be as strong and solid as it needs to be. You need to really concentrate, and it's a twirl at the end, not a loop.'

'Thanks for the advice,' said Malcolm, cheerfully. 'You're a real inspiration.'

Ernie gave him a paternalistic nod and didn't notice that Malcolm had used a non-verbal spell to turn his hair pink. Harry met Seamus' eyes and snickered.

'I say, Harry. Great to see you join us. You'll find it's rather good to get stuck in and really build something,' said Justin, casting a spell that made the disparate pieces of a cracked stone meld back together. He wore Muggle clothes, the sleeves of his expensive-looking shirt rolled up past his elbows. 'One feels that one's really making a contribution.'

Harry realised that he hadn't known where they'd been spending their days. He examined the group, which included several people whose names he didn't know. 'Where are the Ravenclaws?'

'Anthony and Michael are helping repair damaged spellwork,' said Ernie. 'Luna's looking after Hagrid's beasts.'

'What about the other Slytherins?' asked Harry. 'I know Malfoy's working on the broken mirrors.'

'Astoria's working with Madame Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing,' said Seamus. 'And Daphne's on fundraising. Writing owls, getting on the floo. She's a way with the words, Daphne. Can't she do marvellous things with that tongue of hers?'

Millicent shot him a dirty look.

'I'm only sayin',’ said Seamus, with a grin.

'Don't get too hung up on her,' said Millicent. 'Her father will mount your head on a plaque if he finds out.'

'Isn't the risk part of the thrill?'

Millicent shrugged. 'Your funeral.'

After Seamus had taught him the necessary spells, Harry got to work repairing broken stones. Justin was right, there was something deeply satisfying about helping to fix the castle in such a tangible way. The first day left him so tired by the end of it that he slept dreamless through the night for the first time in months. 

There were no further night-time liaisons with Malfoy. If he and Malfoy were in the same room, Malfoy exuded icy hostility. That was a good thing. It had been getting complicated. For some reason, this didn't lessen his Malfoy related anxiety, though. That only got worse. One morning at breakfast he found himself staring at Malfoy, watching him as he ate scrambled eggs. Malfoy had perfect manners, of course. He made something as mundane as egg eating look graceful. The way his jaw worked as he chewed made Harry's insides tighten. Malfoy's sharp, thin jaw, smooth and pale. His pink lips slipped over the tines of the fork. Malfoy paused, fork in mouth, and red bloomed in his cheeks. His eyes darted to Harry, then away again.

Something smacked against the side of Harry's head. A bread roll. He looked up and saw Ginny's raised eyebrows across the table. He scowled at her. He wanted to get up and leave, but he couldn't due to the physical results of staring at Malfoy. He stabbed at his own eggs, then shoved a sausage into his mouth and chewed it aggressively.

Once he could stand without embarrassing himself, he fled, intending to return to his dorm and get himself in a state where he could concentrate on working in the tower. Halfway down the stairs to the dungeon, Colin appeared, wringing his hands. He swished from Harry's left side to his right, making him dizzy. Harry pressed his hand against the cold stone wall to keep from tripping over. 'Could you maybe pick a side, please, Colin? You're going to make me fall down the stairs.'

'Ooooh, Harry,' said Colin. 'You should maybe, I don’t know, I don't want to interfere, but Ron is pretty upset.'

'What?' Harry had been so distracted by Malfoy ignoring him that he hadn't even looked for Ron. Shame tightened on the back of his neck. 'He's upset?'

Colin nodded. 'Fred went away.'

'Away? What, he's vanished?'

'He flew away,' said Colin. 'They had a fight the other day and after Ron left, Fred flew through the wall. We haven't seen him since.'

Harry covered his eyes with his hand and took a deep breath. 'Okay, Colin. Thanks.' He hurried down the staircase, heading towards the ghosts' dungeon. He heard Ron before he saw him. His friend's voice echoed through the corridor. 'If you hadn't interfered, he wouldn't have left, you greasy sod!'

Harry started to run.

'Yeah,' Ron continued as Harry skidded into the room. He stood shouting and red-faced, while Snape, arms crossed, remained impassive. 'I can say what I like now, can't I? What're you going to do? Give me detention? Take points?'

Remus and Tonks stood to the side, arms around each other. They had the air of people who had tried to help and given it up as a lost cause. Some of the other ghosts–like Crabbe–watched with interest; some had turned their backs, pointedly ignoring the scene.

Colin whispered in Harry's ear, making him jump and shiver. 'Snape told Fred he was indulging Ron by letting him spend so much time down here, that he was letting Ron wallow. And then Fred told Ron not to come any more. And Ron told Fred that he was being a bastard, just like when he was alive. And then Ron started crying. Then he left. And then Fred left. And now Ron's back and he's really cross with Snape, because–'

'I think I get it,' said Harry. 'Thanks, Colin.'

'No, Weasley,' said Snape to Ron. 'Unfortunately, I am no longer capable of wielding discipline, only advice. Which you stubbornly refuse to heed. Your constant visits have become a disturbance. Something had to be done.'

'It's none of your fucking business!' Ron shouted back at him.

'Ron,' said Harry. He shot Snape a glare.

'Come to collect him, have you, Potter?' said Snape. 'Be quick about it. Or shall I brace myself for yet more tiresome shouting?'

Wild-eyed, Ron spotted Harry. His shoulders fell. 'That utter prick,' he said, gesturing towards Snape. 'He's chased Fred off. Fred's gone. I don't know where he–'

'I know,' said Harry. He took Ron's arm and led him away, resisting the impulse to give Snape a two finger salute. 'Colin told me what happened.'

They reached the wall and Ron slid down it. He curled forwards, burying his face against his knees. Harry sat beside him and wrapped his arm around Ron's shoulders. Ron shuddered, crying silently. His pain spiked through Harry's heart. He tightened his grip.

'I've been an idiot,' said Ron. 'I can't let him go. Ginny was right. I've just made everything worse.'

'He's your brother,' said Harry.

'It's not fair. I know I'm being a self-absorbed git. I'm not the only one–' He glanced at Tonks and Remus, who were keeping respectfully to the other side of the room. 'Andromeda lost her husband and her daughter. Teddy lost his parents. You…'

Harry didn't want Ron to start talking about anyone Harry had lost. 'It doesn't matter. It's not a, you know, competition.'

Ron lifted his head. He wiped his nose and face on his sleeve, then rested back against the wall. 'Merlin, I'm glad I didn't tell mum. Or George.' He shook his head.

They sat silently for a moment. Then Harry spoke. 'You remember the Mirror of Erised?'

'Yeah.' Ron snorted. 'Imagine wanting to be Head Boy and Quidditch Captain more than anything else.'

'I saw my mum and dad,' said Harry.

Ron nodded.

'The third time I went to look at it, Dumbledore was there. I don't know if you remember, but he told me… He told me not to look for it again. That people had wasted away looking at it. And I reckon maybe this–Fred–is the same sort of thing.'

Ron let out a long breath. 'Okay. I get it.' He got to his feet, then extended his arm and helped Harry up. 'Thanks, mate.' He wiped his eyes again. 'I'm going to go find Hermione.'

'Good idea.'

Ron patted Harry on the shoulder and trudged out of the room. Harry began to follow him, but stopped when he heard a low snicker. He turned. Snape stood watching, arms crossed, looking cruelly amused.

Harry wanted to throw something at him. 'You'd think you'd have a bit more sympathy.'

'Why do you imagine that?'

Harry took in his cold, dark eyes, the nasty curve of his smirk. Something vicious sizzled inside him. 'Because you know what it's like to lose someone you love.'

It wasn't possible for a ghost to go white, but Snape gave a good impression of it. Buzzing with triumph and something much less pleasant, Harry turned his back and stormed out of the room.

There was an edge of familiarity to what he was feeling, and he hated it: dislike and fascination. The discomfort of not knowing how he was _supposed_ to feel. The build-up of nearly seven years of reasons to hate someone wasn't easily budged. And even if there'd been more to his story than Harry realised–Snape, Draco, either one–that didn't erase Harry's memories of being mocked and humiliated. Of seeing pleasure in the eyes of someone trying to hurt him.

Ron must have gone to find Hermione in Hufflepuff, because he wasn't in the Slytherin common room. Malfoy, on the other hand, was. Alone. Harry stopped short, still feverish from his confrontation with Snape, still shivering with heat and anger. Malfoy raised his elbow in a self-protective gesture when he spotted Harry and took a step back. Harry thought he'd like to take his frustrations out on Malfoy in the usual way, but Malfoy just stared at him, refusing to rise to the occasion.

Malfoy wore a travelling cloak. His trunk floated behind him, bobbing gently up and down.

'Why've you got your trunk out?' Harry asked.

Malfoy had the air of someone who'd been caught. He watched Harry carefully, his wand extended in Levitation. Harry shoved his hands into his pockets to suppress the urge to pull his own.

'You need to take them on walks once a week or they get tetchy,' said Malfoy.

'You do?' Harry'd never once taken his trunk out for a–

'Of course not, you absolute idiot. Why do you think I've got it out? I'm going home.'

Harry blinked, startled. 'For a visit?'

'For good.' He sniffed. 'I've done my bit, now it's time I got on with my life.'

 _But you're mine_ , Harry thought, _you can't leave_. Cold swept across his face. The reflexive thought swelled bright in his mind, taunting him. He clutched his chest in panic.

'You look like a goldfish with your mouth opening and closing like that,' said Malfoy. He and his trunk swept past Harry towards the door.

Harry dithered a moment, then followed him out into the dungeon corridor. 'You finished the mirrors?'

'Someone else can take up where I've left off.'

'That's not very… responsible.'

'My deepest fears have been realised. Harry Potter thinks I'm irresponsible.' He walked faster. 'Stop following me.' He swung his trunk across the corridor making Harry jump back to avoid being hit.

'Are you leaving because of me?' asked Harry, approaching desperation.

'Of course I am, Potter. _Everything's_ about you.'

They reached the staircase and began to climb. It was the sex, Harry told himself. He couldn't lose the sex. He'd die, he was sure of it. Apparently, that wasn't the case for Malfoy, he realised, and something sharp sliced through his centre. Malfoy hurried ahead of him, with his stupid, poncey posture and fancy black leather travelling trunk with his name on it in silver lettering. Harry kicked it, making it shoot forwards and knock Malfoy in the back of his legs. Malfoy staggered, then looked back at Harry, furious.

Harry didn't know what to say. _I don't want you to go._ He wouldn't say it. Instead he glared, feeling childish and stupid.

Malfoy shook his head and continued up the stairs and out into the Entrance Hall. 'Find someone else to jerk you off, it won't take long.'

 _But I want you_. Other than the two of them, the Hall was empty. Harry ran to catch up with Malfoy and grabbed his arm. Malfoy whirled to face him; the trunk smacked to the floor. Malfoy thrust his wand against Harry's throat. Harry raised his chin, but didn't flinch. He gripped Malfoy harder, staring him down.

'It must make you sick,' said Malfoy.

Harry braced himself for Malfoy to say something awful.

Malfoy went on, his voice low and knowing. 'You came back for me. You saved my life, but let so many better people die.'

'Don't,' said Harry. He could feel the pulse in Malfoy's forearm beating against his fingers.

'Do you deny it?'

'Of course I fucking deny it. I've told you so.'

Licking his lips, Malfoy said, 'Do you reckon Weasley really forgives you for letting his brother die?'

Harry's fist was halfway to Malfoy's face before he even knew he was moving, but he managed to pull it back. Resisting pained him. He wanted to punch Malfoy. He wanted to force him down and beat the hell out of him.

'Harry Potter,' said Malfoy. 'Harry _fucking_ Potter. All my bloody life, you've been there, ruining things. Fucking everything up.'

Harry bristled so hard it burned. 'You were the one always coming after me!'

Malfoy shouted in Harry's face. 'You decided you were too good for me the first moment we met!'

'You insulted my only friend! You called him a savage!'

'He is a savage!'

Harry leapt at him and they grappled. Malfoy's wand clattered to the floor. Malfoy laughed, somewhat hysterically, as Harry tried to pin his arms behind his back. He swivelled free and grabbed a handful of Harry's hair. Harry resisted the urge to submit. He jerked his head, but couldn't get loose. The both panted, bodies twisted together. 'It's just so _easy_ to get to you, Potter,' said Malfoy. 'Insult your friends. Talk about the war. The slightest prod and you explode.'

'So that's what it's all about,' said Harry. 'You trying to get a reaction from me?'

Malfoy bared his teeth. Harry shuddered. They held each other tight enough that he could feel Malfoy's heart pounding, take in every detail of his face: the glittering fury in his grey eyes, the colour flooding his cheeks. The sharpness of his jaw, the fall of his hair over his forehead. The soft curve of his lips.

Harry drew tight against barrier between them, the line he hadn't yet crossed. That he'd never intended to cross. Malfoy, bright and brittle, pulled at him, a siren song, saying _this_ , this or nothing.

Harry could shove him away. If he didn't, he'd risk crashing, and crashing hard. His fingers curved over the back of Malfoy's neck, as if they already knew Harry's decision. He held on tight and gave in, heart thumping with fear and the thrill of ignoring it. He wanted Malfoy. He'd have him. Fuck the risk.

He yanked Malfoy closer and kissed him. A tremor ran through Malfoy's body; he made a sound like a sob. Then he grabbed Harry's shoulders and kissed him back. Harry moaned, something breaking loose and running rampant. He fell into the searing pressure of Malfoy's lips, hot and hard against his own. One kiss after another, he thrummed with intoxicating, electric pleasure. Malfoy stuttered curse words, the details lost between kisses. They clawed at each other, stumbling.

Harry needed… He needed to get Malfoy somewhere private. He wanted to eat him, to devour him entirely. He shoved his hand between the fastenings of Malfoy's robes, snapping them off, and fisted a handful of his shirt. There was a broom cupboard, he remembered. He started dragging Malfoy towards it.

'Oi!' A woman's voice, fierce and commanding, echoed through the Entrance Hall.

Both Harry and Malfoy froze, still breathing hard.

'Could you cut the shenanigans for a moment?' said Jimenez.

They disentangled and leapt away from each other.

Jimenez held the door open for two Aurors who supported a bedraggled, limping figure between them. 'We've got a situation here.'

It was Theo–gaunt, with filthy, matted hair, covered with scrapes and bruises. Alive. Relief hit Harry so hard it made his head spin.

Malfoy shot across the floor towards his friend.

'Hey, hey,' said Jimenez, blocking his path. 'Careful now, he's injured.'

Malfoy ducked around her. Theo, who looked as if he'd crumple to the floor if the Aurors let go of him, gave Malfoy a wry smile. 'Hello, Draco.'

Draco made a strangled sound, then grabbed and hugged him. Theo collapsed against him, wincing.

Jimenez wrenched Malfoy away. 'What did I just tell you?'

'I'm okay, I can stand on my own,' said Theo.

'Are, are you all right?' said Malfoy. 'I thought… I thought…'

'You wrote me off, didn't you? Though I'd be spider meat by now.'

Malfoy stood trembling a moment. Then he straightened and turned to Jimenez. 'Why are you just standing there, woman? This man needs a Healer!'

'Get Cheung,' said Jimenez.

One of the Aurors took on a look of concentration, then cast a Patronus: a long, scaly creature Harry thought was probably an alligator. It sailed out the front door.

Harry ran over. Nott turned to look at him. He blinked. His lips parted. Harry scanned him, trying to judge how seriously he'd been hurt. 'You escaped,' he said. He smiled, wild with relief. 'How'd you do it?'

Nott didn’t answer. He stared at Harry with increasing intensity, frowning. His shoulders twitched.

'Where's that Healer?' said Malfoy.

Nott groaned and started to shake. Alarmed, Jimenez pushed Malfoy out of the way and gently lowered Nott to the floor.

'Potter,' said Nott. 'You should get out of here, Potter.' He rolled onto his side and curled into a ball.

A dark-haired Auror ran through the door and knelt beside him. She drew her wand and started casting spells.

Harry stared at Malfoy. Malfoy kept his eyes on Nott.

'He's dehydrated and starved,' said Auror Cheung. 'There's a decent amount of spell damage. We'll take him to the Hospital Wing. Someone should owl St Mungos, see if they can send someone. Do we know if Poppy Pomfrey is available?'

A stretcher was Conjured, Nott settled on it. They levitated him towards the Grand Staircase. Malfoy went with them, hovering at Nott's side. They began to climb.

'Malfoy!' said Harry.

Malfoy stopped. Looked back, face impassive.

Harry shifted on his feet. 'I'll bring your trunk back to your room.' He waited, digging his fingernails into his palms. He hadn't come down from the kissing yet. It pounded through his blood, hot and joyful. He grinned.

Malfoy took hold of the bannister and squeezed it. He paused there, his eyes closed. He shook his head.

'Yeah?' said Harry. 'I'll do that. Right?'

Malfoy nodded. Harry's grin brightened. Malfoy took a moment, but then, with a resigned helplessness that made Harry's heart beat even faster, Malfoy smiled back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I am SO SORRY this took so long. I had an arm injury that meant I couldn't type for about a month. All better now. :D
> 
> Love to Abradytrix and Magpiefngrl for betaing. <3

Harry pressed Malfoy harder against the bathroom wall and snogged him. Malfoy gripped his hair and yanked him closer. The heat between them grew thicker and more fevered with every kiss and tug. Malfoy hooked his thigh around Harry's arse, making broken, desperate sounds; they drove Harry mad. Harry broke away to take a breath and then nuzzled against Malfoy's neck, beneath his jaw, sucking and biting. Malfoy gasped, his breath shuddering, and scratched at Harry's scalp.

Bursts of effervescent pleasure bloomed wherever their skin met. Dazed with it, Harry yanked open Malfoy's fly and shoved his hand down his pants. The feel of Malfoy's cock in his hand still shocked him, still felt a bit wrong in the best way, as did Malfoy's whine of pleasure as Harry's fingers closed around him and started fisting, fast and rough.

'F-fuck, Potter,' said Malfoy, his voice squeezed from the back of his throat. Harry lapped at his neck and Malfoy moaned. His hips jerked as he fucked into Harry's hand. 'Do it. Do it, you bastard. You're killing me.'

Grinning, Harry said, 'Make me.'

'I will. I bloody will. I'll make you. I'll…' He shoved down on Harry's shoulders.

Harry resisted, just to wind him up, and ground his cock against his fist in Malfoy's pants. It felt so good that he gave up teasing Malfoy, sunk to his knees, and ripped his zip down so he could touch himself.

'Yes,' said Malfoy. 'Yes, yes. Good.' He fell back against the wall. Breathing hard, he stared down at Harry, his face flushed, lips red and wet, hair mussed, eyes bright and hungry. 

Riveted by this sight, Harry started jerking himself off. Malfoy's cock stood up pink and swollen through the parting of his black linen trousers. The smell of it–clean, yet musky with arousal–made Harry's mouth water. Yet he waited, gazing up at Malfoy with teasing defiance. 'Make me,' he said again.

With a growl, Malfoy grabbed a handful of Harry's hair and yanked him closer. 'Do it, Potter.' He licked his lips, as if building up courage. 'Suck my cock.'

Harry shivered. Eyes half closed, he let Malfoy guide his head into place and then he did as he'd been told, moving his hand over his own cock as Malfoy's hit the back of his throat. He swallowed, so as not to gag, which made Malfoy whimper, then started to suck, licking the underside with his tongue as he slid his mouth up and down. Malfoy moaned and held his head tighter.

'Merlin, yes. Suck it, Potter. That's… That's so good.' His hands trembled, knuckles digging in to Harry's scalp. 'Ah!' His voice got higher as his words disintegrated into a babble. 'Yess, fuck, yes. Pot– Oh! Oh, Merlin, I–'

Harry squeezed his own cock harder, thighs and stomach tense, balls tightening, Malfoy's voice ringing in his ears, driving him crazy. All at once Malfoy went silent. A tremor shook his body, then he flooded Harry's mouth–thick, salty and bitter. Harry swallowed, trying to get it down as quickly as possible. Swallowing Malfoy's come was so filthy, so sweetly dirty, that his own cock jumped in his hand and he came, gasping, swallowing again, eyes squeezed shut as he quivered with hot, pulsing pleasure.

He pulled away and grabbed Malfoy's thighs from behind to hold himself up. He rested his head against Malfoy's stomach. They inhaled and exhaled together. Malfoy’s fingers remained twisted in Harry's hair. Once he could think and move, Harry slid up Malfoy's body, cupped his jaw and kissed him again. Malfoy sighed into it, laughing softly. Harry's lips throbbed, his chin stung with stubble-burn, but Malfoy's kisses rang sweet as a song and he couldn't stop. He didn't ever want to stop.

'We've got to get some work done,' said Malfoy in a rough whisper.

'Do we, though?' asked Harry, nuzzling Malfoy's nose and rolling his earlobe between his fingers.

Malfoy hummed, a soft, contented sound. 'Maybe?'

'We're doing inter-house co-operation, it's very important work.'

'Is that what you call it these days?' asked a snide, feminine voice from the mirror Malfoy had completed.

'Mind your own business,' called Malfoy.

Harry wondered if all mirrors were jerks, then he remembered Malfoy saying they took on the personalities of people who spent a lot of time looking into them. Pressing their foreheads together, Harry grinned. The past week had felt like a continual broom ride–speed, adrenaline and pleasure. He'd become a danger to himself, his mind always on Malfoy.

Later that day, after he’d fetched Ron from helping the builders in the tower, he came disturbingly close to walking off the end of a staircase as it swivelled from one corridor to another. He'd been reminiscing about what he and Malfoy had got up to that morning and was only saved from plummeting to his death by Ron grabbing the back of his shirt in the nick of time.

'What’s up with you?' asked Ron. 'You've been miles away for days. It's like when…' His eye narrowed. 'Have you started getting off with some girl and not told me? Who is it? Astoria?'

'No! It's nothing.' Harry ducked his head. 'I've just… I'm just really glad Theo's okay.'

'Huh.' Ron gave him a hurt look, but then shrugged.

'Really, it's nothing.'

'If you say so.'

They milled through the crowd entering the Great Hall for lunch. Harry heard Malfoy's laugh somewhere behind them, looked back, and walked into Luna, almost knocking her over. 'Sorry! Sorry, Luna.'

'It's fine, Harry,' she said. Her eyes widened. 'Oh! Harry.' She bent towards him and sniffed. Harry leant away from her. She beamed at him. 'It's so nice that you're in love.'

Harry blinked. Then he spun and strode away.

Ron clapped him on the shoulder. 'You'll tell me when you're ready.'

'It's just Luna,' said Harry. 'She's talking nonsense like usual.' He felt a bit bad about saying it, but he had to get Ron off the scent.

He sat down next to Hermione. Ron sat on her other side and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. 'Harry's got a secret girlfriend.'

'Have you?' said Hermione, her face lighting up.

'No,' said Harry, frowning as he poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. 'I've not got a secret girlfriend.' He grabbed a slice of bread and started buttering it.

Malfoy passed by, watching Harry with narrowed eyes, and sat at the far end of the table. He didn't start eating, but sat still, looking peevish. The corner of his mouth turned up. That wasn't good. Harry watched with apprehension as Malfoy stood and tapped a spoon against a glass. 'Quiet! Quiet down everyone!' He continued until the ringing squelched all conversation. 'Have you heard the news? Harry Potter has a secret girlfriend!'

Harry froze, a slice of ham dangling from his fingers.

'What are you doing, Draco?' said Astoria. 'Sit back down.'

Malfoy ignored her. 'A _secret_ , you say, Potter?' Malfoy rested his hands on the table and leant in Harry's direction. 'Why, is it someone–' He widened his eyes. ' _Shocking_?

Astoria made a frustrated sound and shook her head. 

Harry did his best to give Malfoy a patient look. 'I haven't got a girlfriend.'

'That's exactly what you'd say if you did have a secret girlfriend.' Malfoy raised his palms, looking up and down the table. 'Isn't it?'

'It truly is,' said Seamus. 'Sorry there, Harry.'

'It really is rather suspicious,' said a Hufflepuff girl.

'It's what I'd say if I were hiding a secret lover,' said Malcolm.

Harry twitched at the word 'lover'. Everyone was staring at him. He shoved Ron's shoulder, wondering why he wasn't telling Malfoy to sod off like usual.

Ron munched the enormous triangular sandwich he'd made. 'What?' he said when Harry scowled. 'I want to see if he figures it out.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'I haven't got a girlfriend!'

'You know we won't judge you, Harry, don't you?' said Hermione.

Ginny would be on his side. He tried to find her, but she wasn't there.

'So, let's see,' said Malfoy, tapping his lower lip. 'Rumour is, you like blondes. I know it's not Astoria. Is it Lovegood?'

'No, it isn't me,' said Luna. 'Harry doesn't find me attractive.'

'That's not…' Sputtered Harry. 'I mean…'

'It's all right, Harry. You don’t have to feel bad. I don't find you attractive either.'

'Oh,' said Harry. 'Well... Good.'

'Your face is too pale and narrow for my taste and you have a tendency to slouch. And your fingers are rather thin. Also, your knees–'

'I get it!' said Harry.

'I find Theo rather handsome, though,' Luna said, her expression dreamy.

Theo raised his head. His scrapes and bruises had been healed, but he still looked pale and drawn. 'Gosh,' he said. 'Thank you, Luna.'

'That's perfectly fine, Theo. I also find Millicent sexy. She has lovely, big hands.'

Millicent stopped eating and turned bright red.

'This is all beside the point,' said Malfoy, a bit louder than before. 'If it's not Lovegood, who is it? We must solve the mystery, it's our duty.'

'Why?' said Harry. 'Why is it our duty? It's not our duty. It's our duty to let people have girlfriends or boyfriends without trying to figure out who they are. Not that that applies to me, because I haven't got a girlfriend.'

'Oh,' said Malfoy. He grinned and his teeth glinted in the sunlight beaming down from the ceiling. 'So, it's a boy.'

Harry dug his fingernails into his palms, willing his face not to change colour. He considered burying it in his sandwich to hide it. 'Malfoy,' he said, a warning in his voice. He could feel Ron and Hermione staring at him.

Malfoy's grin turned vulpine. He counted off on his fingers. 'A boy. A blond. Someone shocking. Who?'

Harry stayed silent, tensed for Malfoy's next words.

'I've got it!' he cried. 'There's only one person it could be. Well, I say _person_ …'

Everyone at the table except Harry leant towards Malfoy, listening eagerly.

'It's Firenze, the centaur, obviously. Potter, you sly pervert. Not that I'm judging, one can only imagine the size of his…' He raised an eyebrow. 'Hands.'

Harry choked.

'Aw,' said Malfoy, 'I've given away your secret. You aren't sore, are you?'

'Of course I'm sore,' said Harry, laughing. 'I'm fucking a horse-man with truly enormous _hands_.'

Malfoy's mouth fell open. Someone in the crowd gasped; others tittered. Ron snorted and shook his head.

'Draco, you are simply awful,' said Astoria, biting her lip.

Malfoy broke into a dazzling grin and Harry couldn't stop himself from returning it. He wanted to grab Malfoy and snog him silly right there in front of everyone. 

* * *

Given he'd worked so hard on the mirrors that morning, Harry decided to take the afternoon off to exercise his broom. He bounded down the stairs, heading for the Slytherin dorm. Halfway down, Ginny appeared around the corner. When she spotted Harry, she halted, eyes wide, then put on an innocent expression.

'Oh no,' said Harry. 'What have you done?'

'I haven't done anything.' She trotted past him, giggling, then vanished into the Entry Hall.

As curious as he was apprehensive, Harry crept through the common room, looking for anything that might explode or start singing or turn him into a giant Puffskein. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. He decided to leave his lot to the fates. As he sat on his bed to re-tie his trainers, he felt something hard beneath the quilt. He pulled it up and found a package wrapped in parchment, Spellotaped, and tied up with a rainbow-coloured ribbon. There was no card, nothing written on the parchment to indicate who'd put it there. Pursing his lips, he cast a spell; the ribbon came loose and the parchment unfolded, revealing a leather-bound book. There was no title, only an embossed image of a mandrake root. Bemused, Harry reached to open it, but then drew back his hand. While he was pretty sure the book was a gift from Ginny, he wasn't certain. The last time a book had mysteriously dropped into his life it hadn't gone so well.

He'd show it to Hermione and ask her to check it for hexes and curses. Although... He didn't have to touch it to open it. Opening it would be safe. He waved his wand, flipped the book open to a random page, and then remained still with his lips parted for several long moments. This was a book of… porn? And not just porn, but gay porn. He threw caution to the wind and began thumbing through it. It wasn't so much porn, he realised, as much as an instruction manual. The first few chapters covered the basics, but after that it moved on to a variety of different positions and activities that made Harry's mind spin.

His mind automatically replaced the little drawings of men with Malfoy and himself. They could do those things. Why couldn't they do those things? He turned a page and bit his lip, taking in the illustration. Maybe Malfoy would do that, or let Harry do that. He flipped to later in the book. Merlin, maybe even _that_. He'd had no idea there were so many possibilities. Flushed and breathless, Harry spent some time doing a number of things to himself.

Once that was finished he felt a bit mindless and lazy, but pushed through and grabbed his broom. As he passed through the common room he spotted Hermione, bent over the ghost book, her brow creased. She wore a bobble hat and one of Ron's knitted jumpers, which was way too big for her. Harry smiled. The little black cat trotted over and batted at his broom bristles as he examined at the book over Hermione's shoulder. Unable to understand the Latin text, he focussed on the stiff yet colourful illustrations. The page Hermione had bookmarked showed a train of transparent grey people holding hands and dancing. A solid man in a cloak led them towards a dark archway. 'How is the research going?'

She jumped. For a moment Harry thought she was going to snap the book shut, but she didn't. 'It's progressing. I think I'll be ready to start brewing soon.'

'You need a potion?'

'The potion is part of the ritual. It takes two weeks to brew. Then another week until the new moon. I'll build the portal that night. It's extremely complicated magic, much more advanced than anything we learned in school. Snape is helping, but he can only do so much, being non-corporeal, and…' She frowned.

Harry snorted. 'And kind of a dick?'

'He's a _horrid_ dick,' said Hermione, looking cross. 'He answers questions with questions and insults me constantly. If it weren't for the others, I'd have a mind to let him bloody well stay stuck.'

'Yeah.' Harry looked at his feet. 'I… I can imagine.' He swallowed; Snape-related thoughts made his stomach hurt. 'I've let you do this all on your own.'

'Harry…'

He kept his head down.

'Harry!'

He peeked at her through his fringe.

' _It's not your responsibility_ ,' she said with enough vehemence to startle him.

'It's as much mine as anyone's,' he said. He didn't bother adding that it was more his than most, given a lot of those people wouldn't be dead if he'd made better choices. He knew Hermione would only argue with him about it. 'And you shouldn't be left to do all the work yourself. I want to help.'

'No, no.' She stood up. 'I shouldn't have complained about Snape. I'm fine.' She adjusted her hat. 'I can do it alone. You have your own work to do.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'What aren't you telling me?'

Her lips pursed, she studied him for a moment, then said, 'Well. Theories differ regarding the facilitation of transverse egression of ectoplasmic bodies through solid geological constructs. Personally, I lean towards Boodles’ Alopharsical Principle, but Snape thinks that Boodles mistook–'

'So different people have different ideas about how create a door for ghosts. I'm not as thick as you think I am.'

She smiled, and Harry realised he hadn't seen her do that in a while. 'Harry, I know you're not thick. But when I don't want to talk about something, I don't want to talk about it.'

'Fair enough.' He shrugged. 'But I'm still going to help you. And when I want to do something, I want to do something.'

She leant her head to the side. 'This is a fact I know too well. Fine. Meet me in the ghosts' dungeon tonight at eight.'

As Harry carried his broom up the stairs, Theo appeared above him. Theo's cheekbones formed sharp angles and shadows circled his glazed eyes. With a twinge of guilt, Harry raised his hand and said, 'Hey, Theo.'

Theo's head jerked up. He halted, limbs stiff.

Harry didn't understand why Theo was staring at him like that. He must be angry. Of course. Harry hadn't learned much about what Theo had experienced in the forest or how he'd escaped. He thought Malfoy might know, but he hadn't told Harry anything. 'I'm really sorry I didn't stop the Acromantula from taking you, Theo,' he blurted. 'It's brilliant you're okay. I can't tell you how–'

'Shut up,' said Theo.

Blinking, Harry said, 'I'm just apologising. I haven't–'

'Go away, Potter,' said Theo, this voice tight. He took a step down the stairs, then stopped again, gritting his teeth. He pressed the palms of his hands against his temples.

Stung, Harry continued up the stairs. He didn't know what else he could do.

'No,' said Theo, holding up his hand. His legs scuffled on the stairs, back, then a forward lurch.

Worried he'd fall, Harry grabbed his shoulder.

Theo's face twisted. 'Get away from me!' He shoved Harry.

Harry smacked against the wall. Theo ran down the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the dungeon. As the sound faded, Harry stayed where he was, his desire to fly had crumbled to ash.

***

Hermione’s voice echoed down the tunnel as she argued with Snape. Feeling listless, Harry had left to meet her in the ghost’s dungeon a bit early. He lurked outside the doorway, listening.

'It won't work,’ said Snape. ‘We've discussed this. Without a guide, we won't be able to–'

'We have to try!' responded Hermione. 'You don't know for certain. It hasn't been tested. There have only been a handful of times in which a portal was even necessary.'

'Miss Granger,' said Snape.

There was pause. Hermione continued in a low voice. 'You know he'll do it.'

'You may find it hard to believe, but I'm no more eager to be forced to witness another grotesque act of self-martyrdom than you are.'

Harry strode through the doorway. 'What?' he asked. 'What are you talking about?'

Hermione gasped. ‘You’re early. I said eight.’ She sat cross-legged on the floor by a short wooden table, across which various potion ingredients had been spread.

With a shrug, Harry said, ‘Yeah, so, I’m here now.’

‘It’s nothing. We were just discussing the theory.'

‘Discuss it with me, then.’ He turned to Snape, who gazed at him with pity, then turned and floated away.

He glared at Snape's retreating figure, then said, ‘Hermione!’

‘Please,’ she said. ‘Please, Harry. Don’t listen to him, he’s a cynic. My plan is going to work.’

‘And if it doesn’t?’

She squared her shoulders. ‘It will.’ 

Harry crossed his arms.

‘Are you going to help me or not?’

Harry trudged over to her and plopped down onto the stone floor. The cold seeped through his jeans. He scowled, then waved to Remus and Tonks, who sat together in an arched niche across the room. They waved back. Remus had his arm around Tonk's shoulders. She looked weary.

Hermione pushed a bowl of dandelion roots towards him. ‘Dice these.’

Harry dumped them onto the table, picked up a knife, and started hacking at them.

'If you're going to help then please make an effort to do it properly.'

‘Self-martyrdom,’ said Harry. ‘Was that about me?’ He thought of the illustration in the ghost book: a man in a cloak leading a line of ghosts.

‘No, of course not.’ She didn’t meet his eyes.

Harry knew she was lying. A cold feeling bloomed in the pit of this stomach. He began dicing the dandelions with more care. Hermione ground poplar buds with a pestle, filling the dungeon with the scene of honeyed musk. If she wouldn’t tell him what was going on, he’d have to find out on his own.

***

By one in the morning, Harry still hadn't fallen asleep. He yanked his blankets higher, then shoved them down again. He rolled onto his back and stared at the underside of the canopy. Neville's snores vibrated through the room like the snorts of a congested Erumpent. The high Harry had ridden since he and Malfoy's _thing_ had developed wasn't blocking out his worries anymore. He sucked in his bottom lip and closed his eyes. He trusted Hermione. If she said it would be okay, then it would be okay. Although Snape didn't seem as optimistic.

He opened his eyes at the patter of bare feet approaching. A hand pulled back his bed curtains and Malfoy's face appeared, pale and shadowed in the darkened room.

Startled, Harry pushed himself up on his elbows. He grabbed his glasses and slid them on. 'What are you doing?' he whispered.

Malfoy wore nothing but pyjama bottoms. On reflex, Harry looked for and found his scars. 'You weren't in the common room,' said Malfoy.

'Well get in, quickly, before you're seen.' Harry shuffled to make space and Malfoy climbed in, pulling the curtains shut after him. Harry pulled his knees to his chest as Malfoy arranged himself at the foot of his bed. Malfoy hadn’t done this before–he hadn't sought Harry out in the night.

' _Lumos_.' Mafloy's wand filled the curtained-draped space with a dandelion of light, softening the angles of his face with warmth. The glow emphasised the darkness outside Harry's bed. As they stared at each other, both adjusting to this new development, they could have been alone, sitting around a campfire in a cave or a lantern in a tent deep in the forest. Harry folded his hands over his knees and rested his chin on them.

He couldn't have put clear words to what had changed between them since that first wild kiss in the Entrance Hall. The energy had turned fluid and less likely to scald. Harry had given up resisting its current. He let it carry him towards Malfoy, enjoying the spin and splash. And Malfoy had… Harry didn't know. He had no idea how Malfoy felt. He didn't prickle any less. He hadn't opened up any further, and Harry wasn't sure he'd want him to. It was still, he reminded himself, just sex. But the constant edge of hostility had melted away and been replaced by something more joyful. At least on Harry's part. He still wasn't sure if he even liked Malfoy. He liked being with him, he liked snogging him and getting him off. He liked Malfoy getting him off. But that didn't mean liking Malfoy as a person. And yet, with him there, white and gold and cautious at the end of Harry's bed, Harry felt lighter. The darkness keeping him awake evaporated.

He smiled. 'There something in particular you wanted?'

Malfoy picked at Harry's blankets. 'I was having trouble sleeping.'

'I could sing you a lullaby.'

Malfoy arched an eyebrow.

Harry started singing softly. 'Your hands are shaking baby. You ain’t been sleeping lately.'

'Stop that.' He gave Harry a shove with his foot. 'Trust you to be a Weird Sisters fan.'

'Too common for you?'

'Too tame.' He sniffed. 'I prefer Inferius.'

Ron liked Inferius, but Harry didn't consider screaming and banging on things real music. 'Oo,' he said, smirking. 'You like torture rock. You're _hard_.'

'Getting there,' said Malfoy, with a smirk of his own.

Harry's face heated, but he grinned. Their toes rested inches apart. No slippers. Malfoy's feet shone as pale and bony as the rest of him. A few golden hairs grew on his big toes. Similar strands trailed down Malfoy's chest between the smooth plains of his chest, across his ribs, over his curled stomach, then disappeared beneath the waistband of his pyjamas.

'My face is up here,' said Malfoy in an insinuating whisper. His eyes gleamed in the light. He flicked his wand at the curtains. ' _Muffliato_.'

Harry hugged his knees, buzzing with anticipation. They were in a bed. They were alone. They could do anything.

Harry's expression must have projected his thoughts. Malfoy's body took on a predacious tension; pinning Harry in place with a look, he uncrossed his legs and crawled towards him. Harry lay back, but made Malfoy earn his dominance as he wrestled Harry down until he had him pinned. He swivelled his wrists against Malfoy's grip. Malfoy forced his knees between Harry's legs. Images from the book swirled through Harry's mind. Anything. Malfoy gazed down at him with his cruel smirk. The hard length of his cock pressed against Harry's thigh. They could do anything at all.

Harry wanted it all. He wanted Malfoy to dig in and tear at him. Without conscious thought and shivering with desire so fierce it ached, he blurted, 'I want you to fuck me.'

Malfoy's mouth fell open. He blinked, looking shocked. Then his face sharpened and his eyes went bright and glittery. 'Anything you say, Potter.'

Fear fizzled through Harry's stomach as he wondered if he was really ready for this. He yanked Malfoy close so he could snog him and Malfoy obliged, wet and clumsy as at the same time he shoved down his pyjama bottoms then started tugging at Harry's with jerky urgency.

'Calm down,' Harry gasped against Malfoy's jaw, taken aback by his overexcitement. Malfoy responded by grabbing at Harry's t-shirt hard enough to rip it. Harry let him pull it off over his head.

Then they were naked together. Malfoy's lips mashed against Harry's, his kisses frantic. Harry gripped Malfoy's hair and arched up. Their legs tangled, knees jabbing. Harry's pulse pounded in his ears and he'd never been this hard before in his life. His cock throbbed against his stomach, seeming bigger and heavier than usual. He wanted this. He wanted Malfoy inside him. He needed it. He was sure.

He knew what they had to do from reading the book. 'We have to… You need…' 

'I know,' said Malfoy, patting the mattress for his wand. He found it, then reared up on his knees. His hair hung damp over his eyes; he shoved it back. He pointed his wand against his upraised palm, which shook until he appeared to force it to stop. He cast a spell that produced a swirl of clear gel. He knew exactly what he was doing. Thoughts zipped about in Harry's mind, overlapping, unsettling him. Malfoy shuddered as he slicked his upright cock with lube, making it shiny. This was going to hurt. The thought excited Harry and he fought off a tremor of shame.

Malfoy lowered himself into position. His cheeks had gone fever pink. 'Spread your legs, Potter,' he said, with a triumphant grin.

Harry scowled, but did as he'd been told. As Malfoy's slippery fingers confidently twisted into his arse, Harry gritted his teeth against the strange, humiliating sensation. 'You've done this before.'

'So?'

Harry winced as Malfoy shoved a second finger into him. ' _Malfoy_ ,' he said, 'slow down. I'm not going to change my mind.'

Stilling, Malfoy took a shaky breath. His examined Harry's face as if his identity was in doubt. 'You…' He licked his lips. 'You really want this?'

'I want you,' said Harry.

Malfoy made a tiny sound in the back of his throat.

'Come on,' said Harry. He hooked his leg over Malfoy's thigh, pulling him closer.

'Stay…' Malfoy shifted his position. 'Stay still.'

He was about to do it. Harry's heart galloped with a fresh wave of fright. Malfoy looked down between them, watching what he was doing with his brow creased in concentration. The head of his cock pressed between Harry's cheeks, so much bigger than fingers. Harry thought it couldn't fit, that it wasn't possible. He squeezed his eyes closed.

Malfoy pushed in, stretching and hard pressure. Harry cried out in surprise. Eyes fixed on Harry's face, jaw clenched and damp at the temples, Malfoy slid deeper with a burn that travelled all the way up Harry's spine. He grabbed Malfoy's wrist and squeezed.

'Does it hurt?' asked Malfoy in a tight voice.

'Yeah,' said Harry through his teeth. His fingers ached where he gripped Malfoy's wrist, but he couldn't loosen his hold. 'Yeah, it does. But, don't… I don't care.' It didn't feel good–the pain was too intense–but a dreamy bliss lapped at his mind and spread over his skin. He let go of Malfoy and set his hands on either side of his head. 'Hold me down.'

Teeth slightly bared, Malfoy gripped each of Harry's wrists and braced himself against them. That hurt too. A sigh of pleasure escaped Malfoy's throat as he thrust forward again. Harry's body tightened. He drew up his knees. The pain amplified the thrills streaking through his limbs–waves rushing and crashing. Lust burnt up his neck and face, making him break out in spots of perspiration. The next time Malfoy thrust–big and hard and tight inside him–Harry moaned.

Something carnivorous sparked in Malfoy's flushed face. He fucked forwards again, then again, moving slowly. Harry held his breath. Almost tearful, he shook his head and said, 'I want you. I want you, I want you.'

'Salazar,' said Malfoy, his voice shaky. 'You've got me.'

His heart thudding hard, Harry shuddered under a wave of emotion. Malfoy found a rhythm and moved faster, grinding in and out, his arse pumping between Harry's spread thighs. Again, Harry moaned.

Malfoy whimpered. His brow creased in panic. 'Oh!' He went rigid. Feeling Malfoy come inside him made Harry whine and shudder. 'Oh…' said Malfoy again. He took a long shaky breath, then collapsed on top of Harry. Still violently aroused, Harry squirmed and scratched at his shoulders. He felt some relief when Malfoy pulled out and flopped onto his back. Merlin. That had been fast.

Panting, Malfoy threw his arm over his face. Harry gave him a hard nudge, but Malfoy ignored it. He realised that he was going to have to finish himself off if he wanted to come. He gripped his cock, fisted himself until he was fully hard again, then bit down on his lip and came after three quick pumps. Breathing hard, he held onto the pleasure of his orgasm until it faded away, leaving him utterly knackered. His arse felt loose and empty and stung like it had been burnt. Malfoy's come coated his thighs and his own glistened across his chest and stomach. He sunk back against his pillow, adrenaline still spiking through his limbs. Malfoy hadn't moved.

The come started to cool. He nudged Malfoy again, harder this time. 'Get my wand from the table.'

Malfoy made a _hmph_ sound and instead reached down and grabbed his own. After a couple of lazy cleaning spells, Harry felt more comfortable, but also strange with a tint of disappointment. It was hard to say how much he'd enjoyed the fucking. Being held down and penetrated had turned him on, but it hadn't felt as good as he'd expected. And Malfoy had done it before. Harry hadn't been his first. Who… Wondering made Harry agitated so he pushed the thought away.

He checked on Malfoy and found him beaming with satisfaction. Harry frowned. 'Merlin, there isn't enough room in this bed for both you and your smugness.'

'What can I say?' Malfoy arched his back and stretched. 'Not everyone can claim they've fucked the Chosen One.'

Oh. That's right. He was with Draco Malfoy. With a tired laugh, Harry covered his face with his hands. 'I've made a terrible mistake, haven't I?'

'…and only one person can say they were the fir–' Malfoy pushed himself up and turned to Harry, eyes narrowed. 'I am the first, aren't I? You haven't been sneaking off into the forest with your Auror?'

'What?' The image of doing that with Meijer flashed through his mind and he went hot with embarrassment. 'No! You're the first. Okay? Be as annoying as you like about it, but if I see anything in the Prophet I will learn a spell that will make me your last.'

With a shrug, Malfoy fell back against the mattress, still looking so pleased with himself that Harry had to bite back amusement. 'You may well laugh,' said Malfoy. 'But there are many who aspire to saviour shagging and only the very few, the most worthy of them all, succeed.'

'You make me sound like the treasure at the end of a quest. And don't ever say 'saviour shagging' again, or I'll ….'

'Lots of threats, Potter.'

Harry scrubbed his hands through his hair and found it damp near his scalp. He'd need to wash it.

'The moon throws down its light and cuts me to the quick tonight,' Malfoy sang, gesturing dramatically with his arm. 'The change is in the air and nothing will ever be the same. You still look good to me. Oh, but you're no good for me.'

Harry didn't think he'd ever seen him in such a good mood. 'You're pretty familiar with Weird Sister lyrics for someone who's not a fan.'

'It's good to stay familiar with things that annoy you. Makes it easier to avoid them.'

'Ah,' said Harry. 'So that's why you hounded me all through school.'

Malfoy shrugged. 'In your case, the theory was more effective than the practice.' He yawned, then turned onto his side, looking like he was planning to fall asleep.

'Make me come next time,' Harry said, trying not to sound petulant.

'Oh.' Malfoy's sense of triumph lessened. He looked irritable for a moment, but then shrugged. 'Yes, I'll do it next time.' His mouth curved back into a smile.

'My arse hurts,' said Harry, giving in and pouting. He wasn't sure what was bothering him.

With a put upon sigh, Malfoy cast a healing spell. The pain vanished. He shuffled closer, his limbs warm and loose as he half-draped himself over Harry. Even now it felt brilliant everywhere they touched. Harry breathed in his sex-drenched musk, and relaxed. Malfoy might be a git, but that didn't stop him from smelling good. Harry brushed through the hair on the back of his arm.

'I'll tell you what,' Malfoy said, his lips close enough to Harry ear to make him shiver. 'Next time, you can do it to me.'

Whatever irritation Harry'd been feeling vanished. Smiling, he closed his eyes. 'That sounds good.'

'You have no idea how good,' said Malfoy, his words slurred.

The beginnings of fresh arousal prickled over Harry's skin, but fatigue won out. Cramped with two of them in the bed, he decided to tell Malfoy to go back to his own, but fell asleep before he managed it.

* * *

Waking up tangled with a naked Draco Malfoy was strange and confusing. Harry turned his head and blinked at the blur of Malfoy's face. His steady breathing and limp weight indicated that he was still asleep. Desperate for a slash, Harry tried to slide away without waking him, but Malfoy rolled over and trapped him again. Harry lifted, wriggled, and shoved until he'd freed himself. Malfoy made a sound of sleepy displeasure, but then settled back into a regular breathing pattern.

Harry pulled on his pyjama bottoms, then his glasses, and tiptoed to the bathroom, not wanting to deal with any of his dorm mates. After he'd pissed, he splashed some water on his face then looked at himself in the mirror. Not a virgin any longer. He was sure he looked a bit older, a bit more manly. Or maybe he just needed to shave. He smiled, then grinned and stretched towards the ceiling, luxuriating in his tender muscles.

'Looks liketh f'rtune did bless thee with amorous rite last night of all,' said the mirror, sounding bored.

'You could say that,' said Harry.

The mirror sniffed. 'Thou art a strumpet.'

Harry quite liked the sound of that, but held up two fingers anyway. He gripped the edge of the sink and leant forward over it. Thinking of himself as a 'strumpet' made him want to crawl back into bed with Malfoy and act like one. Maybe get him to live up to the promise he'd made.

A wave of noise exploded in the bedroom. Shouting. That was Ron. Bollocks. Bollocks, shit, bollocks. Harry dashed out of the bathroom, saw what had happened, and shouted. 'No!'

Malfoy, naked, cowered on the floor while Ron stood over him, red-faced, rubbing his fist. 'He was hiding in your bed, Harry.' His lip curled in disgust. 'Naked.'

Harry put his hand to his stomach, looking from Ron to Malfoy, mind blank with panic.

'What exactly were you planning to do, Malfoy?' asked Ron. He drew his fist back again.

'Ron!' said Harry. Ron turned to him. Harry shook his head. He had no idea what to say. Malfoy had a split lip and watched Harry with pointed focus. Harry gave him a pleading look. Malfoy gave him a jerky nod, then scrambled back into Harry's bed and pulled the curtains closed behind him.

The other boys had emerged. Neville, eyes wide, had his hand over his mouth. Dean looked shocked, Seamus delighted.

'I didn't know how to tell you,' Harry said to Ron.

'Tell me?' The colour drained from Ron's face. 'Tell me what?'

Opening and closing his fists, Harry said, 'About him.'

'About Malfoy?' Ron was looking sicker by the second. 'Tell me what about Malfoy?'

'Are you needing him to spell it out for you then, Ron?' said Seamus. Dean shoved him, but Seamus ignored it. 'Seems that Malfoy and our Harry have been using their wands for a bit more than duelling.'

Malfoy, now wearing his pyjamas bottoms, slipped out from behind the bed curtains. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, glanced at Harry, then walked quickly out of the dorm, his head lowered.

'I don't…' said Ron, watching him leave. 'You couldn't be…' He swallowed. 'G-getting off with Malfoy?' He forced a laugh. 'Are you?'

Three faces gaped at Harry. He wanted them to stop staring. This had been his, his secret, the thing that made him happy. And now it was broken. He wanted to run after Malfoy and heal his split lip. He wanted to shake him for being careless enough to get caught. He wanted Ron to stop looking like he had in fourth year. Anger curdled in his stomach. 'What if I was?'

Ron gawked, not speaking. Then he shook his head. 'A boy, someone blond, someone shocking.'

Harry shrugged, then hugged himself.

'How long has it been going on? You were at each other's throats only days ago.' His eyes widened. 'My god, Luna said…' He pressed his hand against his forehead. 'You're in love with him? With Malfoy?'

Harry lost the ability to think. 'You're not the only one allowed to get off with people, you know. You and Hermione are always… And I'm left on my own! You can't tell me what or who–'

'It's _Malfoy!_ ' shouted Ron.

'It's nothing to do with you!' Harry yelled back.

'He's got you enchanted! Slipped you a potion.'

'No,' said Harry. 'No! That's not it.'

They glared at each other. The hurt on Ron's face made Harry want to be sick.

'You've lost it,' said Ron, his voice cold. 'You've gone round the twist.'

'Leave him alone, Ron,' said a feminine voice.

Ginny emerged from behind Dean's bed curtains wearing an oversized West Ham shirt, her legs bare.

Ron went white. 'Why are you here?' he spluttered. The room took on an airless quality, like the pause between thunder and a lightning strike. He looked at Harry. He looked at Ginny. Then he spun on his heel and punched Dean in the face.

* * *

Harry bumped his knee up and down and Teddy burst into giggles. The baby could hold his head up on his own now. 'Teddy,' Harry said in a silly voice. 'Teddy, Teddy, Teddy Bear. Teddy, Teddy's got… Lots of hair, actually.' The baby laughed again. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen anything as wonderful. He tapped Teddy on the nose and Teddy grabbed his finger and tried to put it in his mouth.

'I'm just having a cup of tea with a friend,' said Andromeda, fixing her lipstick in a mirror near the door. 'I won't be more than an hour or two.'

'Take your time,' said Harry. He was in no rush to return to Hogwarts.

'There's a bottle in the cooling cabinet. You'll know if he gets hungry because he'll make sure you know. He's not shy.' She smiled and patted her hair. 'Nappies are in the cupboard by the sink.'

'We'll be fine.' Harry wondered how long it had been since she'd gone out on her own.

'You're an angel, Harry.'

Harry beamed. He drank in her gratitude. It was nice to have someone pleased with him. It distracted him from his other feelings.

Andromeda left and Harry carried Teddy through the kitchen and out into their garden. Early September sunshine coated the grass and made the stream glisten like mercury where it trickled over egg shaped stones. Harry let the sound of the water soothe him. This had been a good idea.

He concentrated, then waved his wand, Conjuring a blanket. He was pleased with it despite the fact that it was thin and a little fuzzier than he'd wanted. He spread it out over a patch of the lawn beneath a tree. He set Teddy down on his back then stretched out next to him. Teddy rocked side to side as if he were trying to roll over but not quite managing it. 'Teddy, Teddy Bear,' Harry said and Teddy giggled.

After Ron had stormed out Harry had retreated to his bed and drawn the curtains. He stayed there until he was certain that the other boys were gone, then got dressed and grabbed his Cloak. Beneath it, he crept over to Malfoy's dorm, but Malfoy wasn't there. Holding his breath he tiptoed through the common room. Neville, Seamus and Dean–who no longer had a black eye, but still looked disgruntled–were huddled with some of the Slytherins, whispering together. Brilliant. So much for Gryffindor loyalty and keeping each other's secrets. Within a few hours, everyone would know what had happened.

Staring, questions, jokes. Harry didn’t want to deal with it. Still beneath his Cloak, he climbed out of the dungeons and then all the way up to McGonagall's office. She had one of the only working Floos in the castle and allowed him to use it. It had been easy to convince Andromeda to let him to babysit Teddy for a few hours.

Teddy wore a cream-coloured onesie patterned with grey wolves running and howling at the moon. Harry knew that it was a bad idea for living people to visit the ghosts of dead loved ones. Would it be a bad idea to bring Teddy to Hogwarts, though? He wouldn't understand. Remus and Tonks might want to see him, to know he was well, that he was happy. Harry fingered a strand of Teddy's fluffy hair, which was currently deep brown streaked with grey like his grandmother's. He decided to ask Hermione what she thought.

He squinted at the sunlight filtering through the overhanging branches. What secret was Hermione keeping about the ghosts? It had something to do with him, he knew it did. She wouldn't tell Harry because she knew it would upset him. Snape knew. He'd have to find someway to make Snape tell him. He, Harry knew, would be happy for the opportunity to ruin Harry's day.

The sun was making him sleepy, so he got up and strolled over to the stream, keeping half his attention on Teddy. Little orange fish zipped through cattail stalks. The worst part was that Ron's hurt and anger was completely reasonable. Harry could apologise, but that wouldn't make Ron get it. It wouldn't help him understand how Harry had ended up with Malfoy in his bed. That defied explanation; Harry wasn't sure how it had happened either. It was mental; wrong and ridiculous. And the best thing in his life just then. Leaves danced and rustled as a breeze rushed through the garden. A robin hopped from one stone to another. He'd let Malfoy fuck him. _Malfoy._ That was mortifying. Remembering it elicited feelings that weren't appropriate when looking after a baby, so Harry shut them away for later.

He plopped himself down next to Teddy again and made funny faces at him until they were both giggling like mad people.

* * *

Andromeda had returned at dusk, and Harry–still not ready to face the crowd at Hogwarts–had dinner in a Muggle café outside Hogsmeade before sneaking back into the castle under his Cloak. He thought he might get into bed and hide, but he listened through the door and heard Dean and Seamus laughing while they did something that involved loud banging. With a sigh, he headed towards Malfoy's room. He stood outside, dithering, then pulled off the Cloak and went in.

Malfoy, curled up on his bed with a book, looked up in surprise. When he caught Harry's dark expression, he turned away. 'So you've come to chuck me now that I'm not your dirty little secret any more, I suppose. Can't say I didn't know it would–'

'Shut the fuck up, Malfoy,' said Harry. He shoved him over, crawled into his bed, and smacked his head down on the pillow.

'Oh,' said Malfoy, making room. 'I see.'

'I'm sleeping here tonight,' said Harry, not looking at him.

'Are you?'

'Yes. Everyone in my dorm is an idiot.'

'Ah. That's because they're Gryffindors.' His fingers wove through Harry's hair. 'And Gryffindors, while occasionally good in bed, are terribly stupid.'

'You think I'm good in bed?'

'I said occasionally.'

Harry snickered. He peeked at Malfoy, who made his face blank as soon as he noticed. Fine. 'I'm tired, I'm going to sleep. I'll have to be good in bed another time.'

'I didn't make any offers. I was happily reading my book before you barged in, demanding bed space.'

'Then we're both happy.'

The bed smelled of Malfoy. It wasn't until hours later, when Harry still wasn't able to fall asleep because Malfoy's sharp elbow dug into his ribs, that he realised he could have chosen any of the three empty beds. Although he hadn't seen any sign of Theo, so maybe four. Mafloy had fallen asleep with his book open on this chest. Harry picked it up and squinted at it in the darkness. An adventure story about pirates. Something between his ribs went warm. An unexpected piece of the Malfoy puzzle. He squirmed into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes.

* * *

Harry struggled against the arms holding him down. He kicked and shouted.

'Potter! Ow! Potter, wake up.'

The shock of a slap jerked him back to reality. Ice cracked through his bones. It had been another Forest dream. Dark, looming figures. Dementors. His teeth chattered.

'You were having a nightmare,' said Malfoy.

Harry nodded.

'Poor little Potter.'

'Fuck you.' He shook harder, unable to stop. Ginny was probably with Dean again. Clammy sweat broke out across his skin. He didn’t want Malfoy to see him like this. He rolled away and pressed his fists against his eyes.

'You're not going to have one of your fits, are you?' said Malfoy.

Harry wanted Ginny. 'I'm fine, it was just a dream.' He could still smell the Dementor's rancid breath, feel it clouding up his nose and sliding down his throat. The monster had hollowed him out and filled the cavity with acid. 'Go back to sleep.'

'Not easy when you're making the whole bed vibrate.'

'It'll stop in a second.'

Malfoy's hand settled against the top of Harry's spine. Harry stiffened. Malfoy slid his fingers up the nape of his neck. He gripped a handful of Harry's hair and tugged, firm and gentle. He let go and stroked Harry scalp with his fingertips. Tugged his hair again. Repeated the pattern, stroke and tug, stroke and tug.

The tugging sent waves of calming emptiness through Harry's mind, clearing away the darkness. The stroking warmed him. He relaxed into it. Tug and stroke. Tug and stroke. His muscles softened. He stopped shaking.

'That's… That's nice.'

'My mother used to do it for me,' said Malfoy.

'When you were a kid?'

There was a pause. 'Of course.'

Malfoy was a talented liar, except when he was trying to hide something that made him emotional. Harry imagined Narcissa comforting him; Malfoy curled up with his head in her lap while she stroked his hair. He gave in to the familiar, helpless ache of longing. He thought of his mother, then of Molly. Malfoy, behind him, continued to drag Harry out of the nightmare with his steady fingers. Harry knew little about what Malfoy had gone through during the war. He'd seen his terror in the visions, and then at the Manor. The murk of interrupted sleep burnished the night with the unreality of dream. It gave Harry the courage to ask a question he knew might prove dangerous.

'You never told me what you meant,' he said, 'way back in the beginning. How would I have known what you were doing with Dolohov?'

'What do you mean, what I was doing with Dolohov?'

They both whispered, despite being alone. Harry wondered where Theo was. 'You don't remember? We were in the Great Hall and you were talking about watching him murder a family of Muggles.'

'Oh.' The stroking and tugging ceased. The bits of Malfoy that had been languorous against Harry went taut. 'Still worrying about that, are you? Just put in a bit more effort and you might get there. It's not much of a mystery.'

'Malfoy the Sphinx.' Harry yawned. 'Stop being cryptic. Just tell me what you meant.'

Malfoy remained silent so long Harry thought he'd fallen back asleep. But then, in a tense voice, he said, 'You testified for me at the trials.'

'Yeah.'

'You told them what I was doing.'

'Right.' Amazed that Malfoy was actually answering the question, Harry tried not to sound too eager. He didn't want him to close up again. 'I told them that you didn't have much choice. That you were only sixteen. Seventeen. That he would have killed you if you'd defied him.'

Malfoy paused again. Harry wanted to roll over so he could look at him. He wanted to see his face. He stayed as he was, trying not to move at all. 

'So that's what I was doing,' Malfoy finally said.

Harry bristled with frustration, still at a loss. Then he got it. 'Oh…' And he did roll over, because he wanted Malfoy to see him when he responded. He found his glasses and slid them on. Malfoy eyed him, wary. 'You mean…' Harry said. 'You were doing whatever you had to do to stop him from killing you. Right? That's what you meant.'

'I was surviving,' Malfoy said. 'That's all. Dolohov killed the Muggles; I watched.' His lips quivered. 'The man and the woman. The two little boys.'

'You could have just sai–'

'I didn't like it when you asked. As if you thought I'd gone along with it. You testified for me. I thought that meant… I thought you…'

Harry grabbed his shoulder. 'I did. I do.'

He didn’t seem to hear Harry. 'You don't know. The things they did. The woman begged him not to hurt her children. Dolohov didn't care. He enjoyed it.' Malfoy's face squeezed up tight. His words tumbled out in messy, ragged bursts. 'I didn't… I couldn't… I watched. He'd have done me next if I'd tried to stop him. The Dark Lord would have let him. He thought I was useless. A pawn to use against my father, but then Father wasn't any use to him either. And they were only…' He took a compulsive breath. 'They were only Muggles.'

'What?' said Harry, drawing away.

'I thought… That's what I told myself, watching them scream. Watching them die. And I got through it. I went home. I went to bed. But I kept hearing her. The woman. I kept hearing her beg. The little one crying. He had a toy, a Muggle man doll. And it didn't help anymore. I couldn't stop him. He would have killed me too.' The pitch of his voice rose. 'He could have done it, and made my mother watch, like he did with the Muggle woman.' He took a couple more gasping breaths, then froze. 'Goddamit, Potter!' He shoved Harry hard enough to make him fall out the other side of the bed, then scrambled away. The bathroom door banged as it slammed shut, then bounced open again.

Shellshocked, Harry sat up. Malfoy's retches echoed through the darkness. Harry stood and crossed half the room. Malfoy probably wanted him to leave. The retching ended, replaced by gasps and whimpers. Setting his jaw, Harry strode into the bathroom. He passed the sinks and saw Malfoy hunched on the floor by the toilets.

When Malfoy spotted him, he bared his teeth in fury. 'Get out! Bloody nuisance. I never wanted you here!'

Harry halted, shocked back to sixth year. He ran his fingers through his hair. Malfoy followed the movement; his face creased. 'Have you woken up? See me clearly now that your cock's soft?' He spread his arms. 'Because here's the truth. The answer to all your questions. You wanted it, here it is. This is Draco Malfoy. A pathetic, snivelling Death Eater.' He gripped his left forearm and shook it. 'It's never going away. That's who I am! So fuck off back to your hero friends.'

Anguish shimmered behind Malfoy's sneer. Harry's thoughts flickered, refusing to focus. He let the glow at his centre lead him. 'No,' he said.

Malfoy got to his feet, everything about him hard and malevolent. 'It wasn't a request.' He pulled his wand. 'Get out.'

Harry stayed put. 'You can't hex me in here.'

He pointed his wand at Harry's chest. 'I'm not going to miss.'

Harry lifted his chin, but didn't move.

'I _hate_ you.' said Malfoy. 'I've always hated you, since the first moment we met.'

Harry shrugged.

'You oafish, vainglorious, thick-headed _half-blood!_ '

Cocking his head to the side, holding back reckless laughter, Harry said, ' _Vainglorious?_

Malfoy punched him, making Harry's head snap back. He pummelled Harry with scattershot hysteria, getting in a good few further jabs. Harry threw his arms up in self-defence, but didn't fight back. Malfoy yelled with frustration and shoved Harry. Harry stumbled backwards, senses humming, and then grabbed Malfoy by the back of his neck. Ignoring Malfoy's shouts, Harry slid his hand behind his head, grabbed a handful of his hair, and pulled. He stroked his fingers up Malfoy's scalp. Malfoy exhaled. He stopped trying to hit Harry. His body quaked, humming with emotion. Harry tugged again. Stroked. Tugged.

Malfoy twisted away and turned his back. Exhausted, Harry waited. Malfoy crossed his arms in front of his face, trembling as though he were crying again.

Harry didn't know what he felt, just that he felt too much of it; warm, pulsing energy woven through his body like arteries, making him tingle with terror and elation. Malfoy was not a nice person, there was no getting around it. He could be mean, superior without reason, and deeply selfish. But there was something soft in him, deep down. Something that made Harry ache when he thought about it. Malfoy' pain and his damage. Harry could see it, how Malfoy cared what Harry thought of him. How hard he tried to please, how he lit up when he succeeded and despaired when he failed. And he made Harry laugh. He made him happy.

'You wanted to know what I believe,' said Malfoy, still turned away, his voice colourless. 'I don't know. I don't know what I think.' He swallowed. His voice lowered. 'I want to be happy. I want my family to be safe. That's all. Anything else, any–' He waved a hand. 'Ideology… It doesn't matter. It never did me any good.'

Harry crept towards him. Malfoy's back tensed. Harry slid his arms around Malfoy's waist and leant his forehead against Malfoy's shoulder. He held him like that. Eventually Malfoy melted back against him.

It wasn't that Harry liked Malfoy now. He just couldn’t stand to see him in pain. He just felt better when he was near. He just thought about him all the time. He didn't like him. He liked his smooth, pale skin, his silky hair, and clever lips. He liked his haughty accent and the way the elegance of his movements dissolved when he was excited. He liked the radiance of his eyes. He liked his layers, the whole puzzle of him, the itching curiosity he inspired. He didn't like Malfoy. He di–

'You're going to destroy me, Potter,' Malfoy muttered.

Harry nuzzled Malfoy's neck. Malfoy gave a groan that turned into a laugh. _That makes two of us,_ Harry thought.

* * *

A _Tempus_ charm told Harry it was six thirty in the morning. Luminescent shapes rippled across the dorm's porthole, indicating that the sun had risen. He knew he wasn't going to fall back asleep. Malfoy's eyes moved back and forth beneath his lids. Harry wondered what he was dreaming about. His slept-in clothes stuck to his skin. He'd sneak into the Gryffindor dorm before the others woke up so he could change.

The door opened. Harry peered through the thin gap between the curtains, wondering if he could leave or if he should stay hidden. Theo stood unmoving in the centre of the room. He shook himself, then knelt down next to his trunk and opened it.

Theo already knew about him and Draco, Harry thought as Theo began piling his possessions into the trunk. He decided he might as well reveal his presence. He pushed the curtain out of the way and quietly said, 'You're not leaving, are you?'

Theo jumped. 'Potter?'

'Yeah,' said Harry.

'No,' said Theo, eyes wide. 'For fuck's sake, go away.'

'I get why you're angry,' Harry said. He got out of bed and shoved his hands into his pockets. 'I don't blame you.'

'Away,' said Theo. His eyes unfocussed. 'Out.' With jerky movements, he rose to his feet and faced Harry. He did nothing else, but the tension in his limbs made it seem as if he were about to.

The hair on Harry's arms stood up. 'All right there, Theo?' Theo didn't respond. Keeping an eye on him, Harry backed away. He paused in the doorframe–Theo remained motionless. Instead of going back to his own room, he trudged into the common room, which stood empty as the remains of night bled away. Water-filtered light burnished the shiny dark wood of the furniture. Discomfited, Harry decided to find one of the Aurors.

'Potter.'

Theo had followed him. All his danger sensors quivering, Harry let his hand dangle near his pocket. Theo pulled his wand; Harry drew his as well. He focussed on Theo's posture, on how he held his face, trying to guess what he'd do next.

'Can't duel in the Slytherin common room,' said Theo, expressionless, and let go of his wand. It fell to the carpet with a soft thump.

'You drew on me,' said Harry.

Theo took a faltering step towards him.

'What are you doing?' The room rang with early morning silence. Theo moved again, sliding into silhouette as he passed a window. Harry retreated, keeping his wand in hand, not knowing if he should help Theo or protect himself.

Theo lurched to a halt. His face creased. 'Potter,' he said. 'Don't… Come…' He made a strangled sound, then twitched.

Harry held his hand out, placating. 'I'm going to get help.'

Theo went blank again, but then his face crumpled. 'Help,' he repeated. 'Help me.' He swayed as if about to topple over. Harry ran to catch him. Theo pitched against Harry, his arms falling on either side of Harry's neck.

'Hey!' Harry shouted. 'Malfoy! Someone!' Theo clung to him. His thumbs pressed into Harry's throat. Harry tried to pull away. Theo pressed harder. When Harry tried to push him off, Theo's hands closed tight around his neck with iron strength.

Shocked, choking, Harry stumbled and they both crashed to the floor. Harry tried to breathe, but couldn't. Theo's grip grew tighter and tighter. Pulse pounding in his head, which felt as if it were swelling up like a balloon, Harry pulled at Theo's arms. They wouldn't budge. Darkness clouded through his mind. He was going to pass out. With a force of will, he clouted Theo on the jaw. The grip on his throat loosened; gulping in air, Harry fumbled with his wand, then said,' _S-Stupefy._ His voice came out a faint croak and nothing happened. 

Theo’s hands closed around his throat again, his face rigid, his eyes utterly blank. Harry twisted and arched. As his vision began to blur he grasped desperately for a weapon. His hand hit something hard. A table leg. With all his remaining strength, Harry yanked it as hard as he could. Something crashed down on top of them and shattered. A lamp. It made Theo loosen his hold; Harry propelled him away with his knees. Theo fell over, still grasping at Harry. Harry screamed, ' _Stupefy!_ The word tore out with streaks of pain. A flash of red light hit Theo in the forehead and he went limp.

Harry put his hands to his throat. He gasped, waiting for the dark mist in his head to clear, then sucked in another breath. Tears blossomed in the corners of his eyes. Theo had tried to murder him. To kill him. But he hadn't been right. He'd been trying to fight against it. He sat up and brushed dust and shards of ceramics off his clothes.

Light footsteps pattered across the floor. 'Oh dear, what happened?' Astoria appeared, standing over them in a fluffy pink dressing gown, her feet bare. She knelt by Theo's side and checked his pulse.

'He attacked me,' Harry rasped, grabbing a table to drag himself to his feet. 'He's been enchanted.' Theo lay splayed unmoving on the carpet, thin and fragile looking next to the smashed lamp. 'It's Dolohov. He did it. I'm sure. He Cursed Theo to try and kill me.'

'Oh!' Astoria covered her mouth with her hand. She shook her head. 'I can't believe I didn't realise. He's been so quiet since he was found, and keeping to himself, but he's always like that. I assumed he was just upset. I feel horrible. Going through something like that and no one noticing. Poor Theo.' Harry lowered his hand and Astoria gasped. 'Poor you!' She pulled her wand. 'Raise your chin for me.'

Harry did so and she cast a spell that sent the pain away. 'Thank you,' he said, his voice still ragged.

She looked up at him with wide blue eyes, hair tangled from sleep. 'You'll need a potion for your throat. Madam Pomfrey is still here. I'll take you to the Hospital Wing and she'll check you over and make sure there isn't any other damage. And you should rest.' 

People began to emerge from the dorms: Neville, Dean and Ginny along with some of the other Slytherins. No Malfoy, he was probably still asleep. No Ron.

'What's happened?' said Ginny, looking from Harry to Theo's inert figure. 'Did you fight?'

'We think Theo was cursed to attack Harry,' said Astoria. 'Harry Stupefied him.'

'Someone should get Mei– Should get Jimenez or one of the other Aurors,' said Harry. 'We need to figure out which curse was…' Fresh spots danced across his vision. Dizzy, he grabbed the back of a chair.

Ginny ran to him and peered into his face. 'What's wrong with your voice? What did he do to you?'

'I'm okay,' said Harry.

'I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing,' said Astoria. 'Don't put up a fuss.'

'Storie, you can't go out in your nightgown,' said Daphne. 'You'll catch cold.'

'I'll take him,' said Ginny. She took his hand. Harry didn't resist as she led him out of the dungeons.

* * *

Fresh paint fumes hung on the air in the Hospital Wing. While it hadn't been badly damaged in the Battle, tending to the wounded and dying had left it in need of redecoration. Harry tried not to consider why. He fidgeted in his bed, feeling fine after Madam Pomfrey's potions. He wanted to get up and move, but had been very firmly told that he was to stay under observation for the next few hours, just in case.

'He was under the Imperius Curse,' said Hermione, sitting at his side. She poured him a glass of water from the jug on the table next to his bed. 'Auror Jimenez removed it.'

'Is he okay?' asked Harry. He took a sip. His throat felt fine again. 'He knows I don't blame him, right?'

'I'm sure he does, but you can tell him so yourself later.'

Harry nodded. Meijer was still at St Mungo's. Now Theo. He let his head fall back against the wall. 'We've got to stop Dolohov. He wants me, and if anyone else gets hurt as he tries to get to me it will be my fault.'

'That's a ridiculous thing to say. None of this is your fault, Harry. None of it ever was.'

'If I go to him and fight him my–'

'Imagine how we'll feel if you're hurt or–' She turned his face to make him look at her. 'Or killed. And then he'll have mastery of the Wand. No. Don't let him make it your battle.' She gave Harry a fierce look. 'You know I love you, but you can be quite self-absorbed. The Aurors will catch Dolohov. He can't hide in the Forest forever.'

Harry drew his knees up, gazing at the ward's closed door. 'Not everyone cares if I live or die,' he said.

Hermione sighed. 'Of course he cares.'

Harry gestured at the lack of Ron.

'He knows you're all right. He was very concerned, of course, but Astoria assured him that you were fine. He doesn't know what to say to you. He was shocked, Harry. And frankly, I'm shocked too.'

'Sorry,' said Harry. 'Didn't realise I needed to ask permission for everyone I get off with.' He knew he was being childish.

'You're being childish.'

'I know.'

'It's not about you–' She made quotes with her fingers. ' _Getting off_. Honestly, it's about time. Ron and I were–'

'Merlin, please stop.' He held his hand to his forehead, wincing. 'Let's just pretend you don't talk about my sex life when you're alone together and spare me the humiliation.'

'Fine. The point is it's not about _what_ , it's–as you well know–about _who_.'

Harry tugged at a loose thread on the blanket covering his legs. In his mind, he imagined two Malfoys: Malfoy as he'd seen him at the beginning of the summer–mean, snobby, bigoted, and Malfoy as he saw him now–less mean, less snobby, conflicted about his bigotry and also vulnerable, intriguing and nice-smelling. The corner of his mouth turned up. Ron and Hermione only saw the first Malfoy. They had no reason to see anything else.

Hermione gave a helpless little laugh. 'You know you don't deserve to be punished. Right?'

'Punished?'

'It's just rather suspicious that you've chosen someone who rather recently wished you harm. Who takes pleasure in upsetting you. In provoking you into fights.'

'Trying to get my attention? Goading me into putting my hands on him?'

'I…' said Hermione. 'I never looked at it that way.'

'He's not a punishment.' Harry swallowed. 'I'm not with him because I think I deserve to suffer or anything like that.'

'With him? Are you _with_ him? How long has it been going on?'

'A while.' He shrugged staring down at his knees. 'And I don't know. I don’t know what we are. I only know that… That he makes me happy.' He looked up and caught Hermione's eyes, which were warm and brown and alight with concern. 'He makes me feel good. I'm happy. I…' He didn't want to get into how long it had been since he'd felt like this, how hard it had been for him to get to this point. He assumed Hermione knew.

'Oh,' she said.

'It's mental that it's him. I know that. And I don't know what it is or how long it will last, but I need it now. I need him.'

Hermione studied him as if she were trying to perform Legilimency. 'Are you in love with him?'

Harry scowled.

Looking fond, Hermione smiled. 'I'm not going to pretend that I'm not worried. And if he hurts you, I'll castrate him.'

'Please don’t do that,' said Harry.

'Only with your permission, I promise. And I'll talk to Ron. You know, I think he was mostly hurt that you'd been keeping it a secret. Neither of us even had any idea that you were gay.'

'Yeah. I just didn't know how to explain it. I didn't want to have to. And I'm not gay. I'm bisexual. I guess.'

Hermione took his hand and squeezed. 'I want you to be happy, Harry. More than almost anything. You deserve it.'

Harry tugged at the loose thread for a few more seconds. Then he leant over and kissed her on the cheek.

* * *

It was evening by the time Madam Pomfrey allowed Harry his freedom. He went straight back to Slytherin, hoping to reassure Theo. He found him in the common room, surrounded by people. Theo sat curled in the corner of a sofa near the fire. Luna sat next to him, staring with her huge eyes as if fascinated by his every word. Theo kept glancing at her, looking a cross between pleased and frightened. Harry hung back, listening.

'It seems that he Cursed the spider with Imperius as well,' said Theo. He spoke mostly to his hands, not meeting the eyes of the crowd around him. 'It followed his orders, brought him animals and berries to eat, scared off the Centaurs. He wanted it to bring him Potter. That was the plan, but it got me instead.'

'We all wondered why it didn't eat you,' said Malcolm. 'We assumed it had until you came back.'

'Quite,' said Theo. 'Thank you for that, Malcolm.'

'We're very glad that it didn't eat you,' said Luna.

'Yes, well, thank you as well, Luna.'

Astoria entered, carrying a box of chocolates, and perched on the arm of the sofa next to Theo. She plucked one out. 'Eat this, Theo. No argument. You need nourishing.' Harry thought that Theo might be feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the attention.

Hands in his pockets, Harry strolled across until Theo looked up and spotted him. He looked so distraught that Harry hurried the rest of the way over. 'I know you didn't mean to do it,' he blurted. 'And look.' He pointed to his neck. 'I'm fine. No harm done.'

'Nevertheless, I sincerely apologise, Potter,' said Theo. 'I did try to resist.'

'I know you did. I knew right away.'

'Well… Being who I am, a Nott and all that, I wouldn't be surprised if–'

'I trust you,' said Harry. 'You aren't your father.' Theo pushed his hair out of his eyes and looked as if he were about to get emotional. Harry shifted on his feet. 'Yeah, so no hard feelings.'

'Yes. Thank you.'

Harry felt someone watching him. Malfoy, standing over the table holding Hermione's ghost book. Harry smiled. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. Harry moved to join him. He pressed his shoulder against Malfoy's.

'Look at you, trusting Slytherins,' said Malfoy.

'It happens,' Harry responded.

They both kept their eyes on the book.

'You…' Malfoy cleared his throat. 'You're all right? No lingering damage to your throat? Or your brain? I can't imagine your brain could take much more, in all honesty.'

'No damage. My brilliance is completely unaffected and intact.'

Malfoy snorted. 'This is Granger's book?'

'She got it from the Library.'

'Why is she studying psychopomps?'

Harry didn't know what a psychopomp was, but it sounded like an insult. He ignored it. 'How do you know what she's studying?'

Malfoy looked at him, pointing to the filigreed lettering. 'It's a book. I read the words.'

'You know Latin?'

'A bit. It was part of my home education before Hogwarts.' He smirked. 'Most purebloods are taught Latin, it prevents us from making stupid mistakes and using spells we don't understand.'

'Very subtle.'

'You need reminding now and then.'

'Shall we discuss the time you Petrified me, stomped on my nose, and left me bleeding and in pain to be transported back to London on my own?'

'No, we shan't.'

Harry decided to let it go, because Draco had said 'shan't' and that made him want to snog him. He leant in. Malfoy's eyes widened. Harry remembered they were in public. He cupped Malfoy's jaw and kissed him anyway. When he drew back, Malfoy had a soft, helpless look. Harry shrugged. 'Everyone knows by now.'

They settled on Harry's usual sofa. Harry picked up his Curse Breaking book and took up where he'd left off. He tried to concentrate, but could feel Malfoy watching him. Malfoy slid closer. Then closer. He rested his head on Harry's shoulder. All right, then. In for a penny, Harry supposed. Malfoy slid his leg over Harry's thigh and nuzzled his neck. 

Harry lowered his book. 'What are you doing?'

'I'm sitting next to my boyfriend. Is that a problem?'

Harry twitched at the word 'boyfriend' and tried to push Malfoy away. Malfoy held tight. 'People are looking at us.'

'Again,' said Malfoy. 'Is that a problem?'

Harry stared at him. It was one thing for people to know, another to rub it in their faces. Malfoy gave him an impish grin, then lay down, plopping his head in Harry's lap. Harry laughed. 'Merlin, it's always a challenge with you, isn't it?' He ran his fingers through Malfoy's hair. 

'You should be grateful. Consider what being seen on my arm will do for you.'

'On your arm? _Do_ for me?'

Malfoy nodded.

'What exactly do you imagine you're doing for me? Other than making people think I've lost my mind?'

'I'm a pureblood. From a good family. Outrageously wealthy. Even more outrageously attractive. What wouldn't I do for you?'

Was he joking? Harry stared at him.

'I'm not denying you did your little bit during the war,' Malfoy continued. 'Nor that the name you've made for yourself will reflect poorly on me.'

'You're having me on. Please tell me you're having me on.'

Malfoy examined his fingernails, clearly holding back a grin. 'Just a little bit.'

Harry scowled and flicked him on the forehead. Malfoy pouted.

A shadow loomed over them. Harry looked up, saw Ron, and jumped, his face heating. There was a faint green pallor behind the skin on Ron's freckled face. Hermione appeared at his side, looking pleased with herself. Ron had a wooden box in his hands. He gave Harry a determined look, then turned to Malfoy. 'Oi. Malfoy.'

Malfoy contracted like a cornered animal who hadn't yet decided whether it would fight or flee. 'What can I help you with, Weasley?'

Ron shook the box, making its contents rattle. 'Chess. You and me. Now.'

Blinking, Malfoy sat up. 'You're challenging me to a game of chess. Is that one of those sets where the pieces spit fire and acid at the players when they're taken?'

'No,' said Ron. 'If I wanted you to be in physical pain, I'd punch you in the face.'

'Ron!' said Hermione.

'Wouldn't be the first time,' said Malfoy, with a scowl.

Ron perked up. 'You knew that was me during the Battle?'

'You have a distinctive manner of speaking. In fact–' He looked from Ron to Hermione to Harry. 'There isn't one of you who hasn't popped me one, on one occasion or another.'

'I thought you liked it when I popped you one,' muttered Harry.

'Harry…' Ron gave him a pleading look.

'Sorry,' said Harry, and bit down on his lip, enjoying a wave of love for his friend, for what he was attempting to do.

'Yeah,' said Ron to Malfoy. 'We're a bunch of assholes and you're an innocent bunny rabbit who didn't deserve it every time. But in the real world, are you going to come and play? Or won't you be able to handle it when I conquer and destroy you?'

Malfoy quivered. 'The day a Weasley conquers and destroys a Malfoy is–'

'Today,' said Ron. 'Unless you can prove otherwise?'

Poised on the edge of the sofa, Malfoy gave Harry a look that said, _I'm doing this for you_. Then he got up and followed Ron to a table on the other side of the room.

Harry… Harry tried not to squirm with whatever this feeling was. Ron doing what he was doing, Malfoy giving him a look like that. Hermione sat down next to him. She took his hand and squeezed it. He turned to her and grinned, feeling the warmth of it in his face, in his limbs and at his centre.


End file.
